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MOTION  PICTURE 


^/rrL£  Annie 


Beginning  a Neiv  Series 

WHY  HOLLYWOOD?  By  EDWIN  CAREWE 


Also  T wo  Notable  Serials 


THUNDERING  SILENCE 

By  H.  H.  Van  Loan 


THE  NIGHT  BRIDE 

By  Frederic  Chapin 


At  The 

Director’s  Service! 


A new,  fast-moving, 
Portable  Unit  of  tre- 
mendous power  — com- 
pletely self-contained  — 
for  broad  SOUND- 
CASTING,  makes  its 
bid  for  Movie  Fame 
in  this  issue  of  The 
Director. 

Now  you  can  sway 
that  “seething  mob”  with 
absolute  comfort  to  your- 
self and  your  staff. 

Terms  of  rental  on  application. 

TUcker  3148 


Volume  Two 
Number  Three 


MOTION  PICTURE 


September 

19  2 5 


Dedicated  to  the  Creation  of  a Better  Understanding  Between  Those 
Who  Make  and  Those  Who  See  Motion  Pictures 


FOLKS,  meet  the  “new” 
Director;  new  in  dress 
and  in  its  increased  num- 
ber of  pages,  and  new  in  its 
added  features  of  interest  and 
entertainment  value,  but,  in 
spirit  of  helpfulness  and  sincere 
concern  for  the  best  interests 
of  the  industry  of  which  it  is 
a part,  the  same  Director  you 
have  known  in  the  past. 

In  the  development  of  the 
“new”  Director  it  is  our  pur- 
pose, as  we  enter  upon  the 
second  year  of  our  usefulness, 
to  make  such  additions  as  will 
serve  to  render  our  publica- 
tion of  greater  interest  to  our 
readers,  and  to  take  away  noth- 
ing which  has  contributed  in 
the  past  to  the  development  of 
the  foundation  upon  which  this 
publication  is  predicated:  The 
creation  of  a better  understand- 
ing between  those  who  make 
and  those  who  see  motion  pic- 
tures. 

IN  THE  furtherance  of  this 
purpose,  the  “new”  Direc- 
tor will  henceforth  be  con- 
ducted as  a semi-technical  pub- 
lication of  genuine  interest  to 
all  studio  folk,  and  as  a semi- 
fan publication  appealing  to  the 
host  of  men  and  women 
throughout  the  country  who  are 
seriously  and  sincerely  con- 
cerned with  knowing  more  in- 
timately about  the  making  of 
the  pictures  they  see. 

It  is  the  sincere  belief  of  the 
management  of  The  Director 
that  there  is  a distinct  field  for 
a publication  of  this  type,  a 
magazine,  edited  and  published 
in  the  film  capital  of  the  mo- 
tion picture  industry,  conducted 


CONTENTS 

Page 


IN  THE  DIRECTOR’S  CHAIR 5 

George  L.  Sargent 

A TALE  OF  TEMPERAMENT 8 

George  Landy 

CAMERA  STUDIES  OF  SCREEN 
PERSONALITIES  9 

WHY  HOLLYWOOD?  (A  Series) 17 

Edwin  Carewe 

CAN  THEY  COME  BACK? 18 

Bertram  A.  Holiday 

RUBAIYAT  OF  A STAR 20 

THE  BARNSTORMERS  (A  Series) 21 

Frank  Cooley 

“B.B.”— THE  MAN  ON  THE  COVER 23 

THUNDERING  SILENCE  (A  Serial) 25 

H.  H.  Van  Loan 

EDIT  THE  COPY.. 27 

Reginald  Barker 

THE  NIGHT  BRIDE  (A  Serial) 28 

Frederic  Chapin 

WHY  A SCENARIO? 30 

Bradley  King 

THE  MOTION  PICTURE  INDUSTRY 32 

Traverse  Vale 

ANGLE  SHOTS  35 

SOLD  OUT  36 

Robert  M.  Finch 

RANDOM  THOUGHTS  37 

A1  Rogell 

ART  AND  THE  DRAMA 39 

Clara  Phileo  Schecter 

NEW  PICTURES  IN  THE  MAKING 53 

BOOK  REVIEWS  54 


by  and  for  the  people  of  that 
industry,  and  yet  possessing 
neither  the  limitations  of  the 
strictly  class  or  trade  publica- 
tion, nor  the  diverified  appeal 
of  the  so-called  “fan”  maga- 
zines. 

Insofar  as  it  may  be  possible 
The  Director  will  endeavor 
to  steer  a middle  course  between 
these  two  groups  and  cordially 
solicits  the  co-operation  of  all 
who  are  actively  concerned  with 
the  making  of  motion  pictures. 

IN  THE  make-up  of  the 
“new”  Director  many  of 
the  old  features  have  been  re- 
tained and  in  this  issue  appear 
succeeding  chapters  of  the  two 
serials  begun  in  earlier  num- 
bers, H.  H.  Van  Loan’s 
Thundering  Silence  and  Fred- 
eric Chapin’s  The  Night  Bride. 

Frank  Cooley’s  fascinating 
episodical  recital  of  his  exper- 
iences as  The  Barnstormer  also 
continues  as  a distinctive  fea- 
ture. Old-time  troupers  in  the 
profession  will  thoroughly  en- 
joy Mr.  Cooley’s  intimate  ac- 
count of  those  barnstorming 
days  when  railroad  fares  to  the 
next  town  and  hotel  bills  were 
so  often  items  of  large  impor- 
tance, and  will  live  again 
those  “good  old  days”  of  the 
show  business. 

WITH  this  issue  is  begun 
a series  of  articles  under 
the  general  heading  Why  Hol- 
lywood? in  which  will  be  pre- 
sented the  views  of  eminent 
directors,  producers  and  players 
concerning  the  reasons  why 
Hollywood  is  and  should  be 
considered  the  logical  center  of 
motion  picture  production. 


George  L.  Sargent 

Published  Monthly  by  the 

J.  Stuart  Blackton 

Editor 

DIRECTOR  PUBLISHING  CORP. 

President 

Bernard  A.  Holway 
Managing  Editor 

1925  Wilcox  Avenue 
HOLLYWOOD,  CALIFORNIA 

Roy  Clements 
Vice-President 

Richmond  Wharton 

Business  Manager 

Entered  as  second  class  matter,  May  29, 

Frank  Cooley 

Tim  Crowley 

Secretary- T reasurer 

Advertising  Manager 

1924,  at  the  postoffice  in  Los  Angeles, 
California,  under  the  act  of  March  3, 

1879. 

Subscription  Price:  $2.50  Yearly 

PRINTED  IN  U.S.A. 

Single  Copies:  Twenty-five  Cents 

-M 

POSITIVELY  LOS  ANGELES’ 
FINEST  RESTAURANT 


— Appointments  of  Elegance 
— Service  without  a Flaw 
— Unequalled,  Unparalled  Cuisine 


Sunday  Night  Symphony  Concerts 

MAXIE  AMSTERDAM  and 
his  HUNGARIAN  SEXTETTE 

DREXEL  4764  DREXEL  4763 


September 

In  introducing  this  series  The  Director 
is  actuated  by  the  sincere  belief  that  here 
is  a subject  of  general  interest,  the  discus- 
sion of  which  may  do  much  to  clarify  ex- 
isting conceptions.  The  views  expressed 
are  the  views  of  the  authors  and  do  not 
necessarily  represent  the  views  of  The 
Director. 

A DISTINCTIVELY  new  depart- 
ment inaugaurated  with  this  number 
is  the  section  devoted  to  Camera  Studies 
of  Screen  Personalities.  Here  will  be 
presented  each  month  interesting  photo- 
graphs of  the  great  and  near  great,  of  men 
and  women  of  the  screen  who  are  achiev- 
ing success  in  their  respective  avenues  of 
endeavor.  Portrait  galleries  of  stars  have 
always  been  considered  an  inseparable  ad- 
junct to  fan  publications,  but  in  its  Camera 
Studies  The  Director  is  more  concerned 
with  presenting  people  who  have  a genu- 
ine claim  to  screen  recognition,  irrespective 
of  the  parts  they  play. 

OUITE  in  line  with  the  purpose  of 
The  Director  to  be  of  interest  and 
value  to  those  who  see  pictures,  as  well  as 
to  those  who  make  them,  is  the  new  de- 
partment which  makes  its  bow  with  this 
issue  and  to  which  has  been  given  the 
heading  The  Directory.  This  is  a serv- 
ice intended  to  afford  to  the  vast  army  of 
interested  men  and  women,  who  are  sin- 
cerely desirous  of  knowing  more  about  the 
making  of  pictures,  authoritative  informa- 
tion on  specific  subjects  of  a technical  or 
semi-technical  nature;  a place  to  which 
legitimate  questions  pertaining  to  the  pro- 
duction of  films  may  be  brought  and  re- 
ceive an  answer  predicated  on  first-hand 
knowledge  and  information. 

The  Directory  is  intended  to  be,  quite 
frankly,  an  “Ask  the  Director”  depart- 
ment. Letters  from  readers  asking  ques- 
tions on  subjects  pertaining  to  the  making 
of  pictures  will  be  published  together  with 
the  answer  to  those  questions  by  the  di- 
rector, technician,  camera  man  or  other 
authority  best  qualified  to  render  a con- 
crete answer.  As  a matter  of  general  pol- 
icy questions,  the  answer  to  which  might 
tend  to  destroy  screen  illusions  and  hence 
mitigate  against  the  entertainment  qualities 
of  film  presentations,  will  be  answered  in 
private  correspondence  rather  than  through 
the  columns  of  this  magazine. 

This  department  is  not  to  be  confused 
with  the  questions  and  answers  department 
conducted  by  so-called  “fan”  magazines  in 
which  questions  pertaining  to  the  person- 
alities of  screen  players  are  featured.  Only 
such  questions  which  deal  with  the  business 
of  making  motion  pictures  will  be  con- 
sidered eligible.  In  adopting  this  stand 
The  Director  has  no  quarrel  with  the 
questions  and  answers  departments  of 
other  publications  rendering  information 
concerning  the  individual  likes  and  dislikes 

(Continued  on  Page  56) 


1925 


director 


3 


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March 


Bell  & ^trionica’Blvd.. 

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aoiiy’'004. 

Gentlemen:- 

Asia  a»aon°the  gig^® 

at  times  tfa&t 

fonditif^  \ Sued  to  --Vved 

"'  .S’.  »sS-’ 

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Ihia  means 

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1 hanging  y°u»  - — 

^onrs  rer/  °°r* 


Europe* 
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4 


J7^\  MOTION  Miniu 

director 


September 


WOMEN’S 

KNOX 

HATS  and  COATS 


Rossiter 

220-222  W.  7th  St. 


(After  January  1st  at  645  S.  Flower  St.) 


Volume  II,  Number  3 


September,  1925 


c Jn  the  Director  ’s  Chair 


“Sex  Appeal” 

MOST  of  us  seem  ever  to  get  further  and  fur- 
ther away  from  the  fact  that  while  motion 
pictures  serve  the  public  as  entertainment, 
they  never  under  any  circumstances  cease  to  be  edu- 
cational. We  have  pointed  out  in  these  columns  in  an 
earlier  issue  the  reasons  for  this.  It  is  for  the  most 
part  a matter  of  photography,  as  years  ago  this  truth 
gave  rise  to  the  phrase,  “in  your  mind’s  eye.”  The 
great  majority  of  people  recall  a scene  of  their  child- 
hood or  early  life  far  more  vividly  and  in  greater 
detail  than  they  can  remember  a melody  that  was 
popular  in  those  days.  How  many  of  you  can  fail 
to  remember  the  appearance  of  a printed  page  in  a 
favorite  book  of  your  youth,  or  the  precise  location 
of  a quotation  that  comes  to  your  mind?  Do  you 
remember  the  picture  of  “Jack  Spratt”  who  could 
eat  no  fat,  as  it  appeared  in  nursery  rhymes? 

Following  this  line  of  thought,  you  must  agree 
that  it  is  simple  enough  to  withdraw  from  the  hands 
of  an  immature  child  a book  or  magazine  that  you 
deem  unworthy  of  his  probable  understanding; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  it  may  be  added  that  you 
cannot  remove  an  unpalatable  motion  picture  from 
the  screen  of  the  neighborhood  theatre  to  which  you 
and  your  family  are  lured  by  certain  insidious  but 
necessary  forms  of  publicity. 

The  inference  must  not  be  taken  that  the  fault  lies 
necessarily  with  the  publicity  man  in  this  instance, 
because  it  is  up  to  him  to  do  his  bit  toward  filling 
the  theatre  by  which  he  is  employed.  Nor  must  we 
criticize  the  inexact  billboards  for  their  enticing 
views  of  ladies’  boudoirs  at  close  range  any  more 
than  we  should  criticize  the  circus  posters  for  pic- 
turing a mob  of  a hundred  lions  prancing  through 


their  paces,  when  we  know  darn  well  that  the  circus 
in  question  boasts  but  a dozen. 

The  fault  rests  entirely  with  that  small  group  of 
men  and  women  who  occupy  the  commanding  posi- 
tion of  being  able  arbitrarily  to  purchase  this  book 
or  play — or  that. 

We  are  not  prepared  to  say  whether  the  great 
flood  of  semi-salacious  films  that  have  been  produced 
in  the  past  year  and  are  still  embossing  our  screens 
antedated  the  greater  flood  of  pernicious  and  porno- 
graphic plays,  novels  and  stories  to  be  had  now  for 
the  asking.  But  certain  it  is  that  never  have  our 
news-stands  been  so  littered  with  as  many  vicious 
and  inane  products  of  modern  decadence  — if  we 
may  call  it  that — as  they  are  now.  These  stories,  for 
the  most  part,  are  untrue  to  life  in  their  depiction  of 
the  very  scenes  they  attempt  to  describe.  Their 
dialogue  is  dull,  rarely  clever,  and  almost  verges  on 
the  obscene.  If  the  picture  is  not  drawn  with  suffi- 
cient clarity  by  means  of  subtle  suggestion  and  inu- 
endo,  such  methods  of  the  experienced  writer  are 
thrown  to  the  winds  as  inexperience  hastens  to  pen 
a portrait  with  the  most  apparent  awkwardness  as 
he  dashes  his  red  ink  all  over  an  already  dirty  page. 

And  don’t  you  believe  that  these  stories  are  not 
being  bought.  We  know  of  one  famous  author  whose 
name  is  a household  word  in  all  English-speaking 
countries  who  submerges  his  personality  and  iden- 
tity at  least  twice  a month  under  a nom  de  plume, 
simply  because  one  side  of  his  mind  has  to  get  rid 
of  all  the  filth  to  which  his  brain  is  unfortunately 
addicted,  and  with  a rare  chuckle  he  cleverly  jots 
down  a sex  story  of  certain  appeal  and  forwards  it 
to  Dirty  Stories.  This  man  would  himself  be  ostra- 
cized from  the  decent  society  with  which  he  asso- 
ciates, and  his  best  sellers,  which  have  found  their 
way  into  our  libraries  and  homes,  would  be  burned 


6 


September 


I X MOTION  WfTMU 

director 


in  our  furnaces  and  fireplaces,  if  he  so  much  as 
dared  to  tinge  them  with  that  side  of  him  that  is 
Mr.  Hyde.  One  of  this  author’s  books  that  you 
have  read  and  enjoyed  was  picturized  not  so  long 
ago  and  was  enormously  successful  as  a picture.  At 
another  theatre  in  our  city  for  a small  admission  fee, 
we  could  witness  on  the  screen  perhaps  the  most  dis- 
gusting exhibition  of  subtle  indecency  we  have  ever 
seen — both  written,  mind  you,  by  the  same  man! 

The  story  of  how  one  producer  purchased  a cer- 
tain well-known  novel  is  interesting.  Passing 
through  two  Pullman  cars  on  his  way  to  the  diner 
on  the  train  on  which  he  was  traveling,  he  chanced 
to  observe  that  seven  people  held  copies  of  this 
novel.  Upon  arriving  at  his  destination,  he  was 
amazed  to  find  two  gentlemen  seated  in  the  lobby 
of  the  hotel,  their  noses  buried  in  the  pages  of  the 
same  book.  He  approached  the  book-stand  to  pur- 
chase a copy,  but  the  clerk  added  further  to  his 
amazement  by  saying  that  she  had  just  sold  the  last 
one  and  that  she  had  disposed  of  more  than  a hun- 
dred in  two  days,  but  that  she  was  expecting  more 
tomorrow.  Mr.  Producer  immediately  entered  a 
telephone  booth  and  advised  his  office  in  New  York 
to  place  a large  option  on  the  motion  picture  rights 
of  said  masterpiece.  All  of  this,  if  you  please,  with- 
out having  read  the  book!  It  so  happened  that  in 
this  instance  the  picture  he  finally  succeeded  in  pre- 
senting to  his  public  contained  few  of  the  elements 
above  mentioned  that  could  have  aroused  unfavor- 
able criticism.  But  suppose  it  had  been  otherwise! 

The  funny  part  of  all  this  is  that  we  in  the  picture 
business  go  right  straight  ahead  buying  up  the  rights 
to  these  unnecessary  riots  of  indecency  and  translate 
them  to  the  screen  with  a fair  degree  of  accuracy 
and  then  squawk  our  foolish  heads  off  about  censor- 
ship. This  monumental  paradox  is  only  one  of  the 
few  things  that  is  “what  is  the  matter  with  the 

• Off 

movies  f 

Another  angle  of  this  unfortunate  condition  is 
this:  Foreign  countries,  whose  trade  we  covet  and 
have  hitherto  successfully  established,  have  through 
their  representatives  rejected  many  of  our  recent 
films  of  the  type  we  are  considering,  in  quite  the 
same  manner  as  they  have  rejected  some  of  those 
luscious  examples  of  scarlet  debauchery  that  have 
more  recently  adorned  the  Broadway  stage.  It  cer- 
tainly is  a laugh  when  you  stop  to  consider  that  any 
European  country  will  turn  down  an  American- 
made  product  because  of  its  indecency!  We,  who 
are  supposed  to  sit  on  the  top  of  the  world  as  far  as 
morals,  education,  and  the  integrity  of  the  great 
American  family  are  concerned,  are  confronted  with 
the  caricature  of  a European  thumbing  his  nose  at 
us  because  of  our  alleged  laxity  of  morals!  And  that 
is  precisely  what  we  get  for  teaching  untruths  about 
ourselves.  It  serves  us  right!  Can  you  imagine  a 
French  Board  of  Censors  insisting  that  certain  cuts 
be  made  in  an  American  film,  written  by  an  Ameri- 


can author,  directed  by  an  American  director,  and 
acted  by  American  artists,  because  of  its  indecency? 
That  is  exactly  what  has  occurred!  Thus,  in  appar- 
ently raising  the  standard  of  American  imagination 
in  pandering  to  an  extraordinarily  fickle  public,  we 
cause  our  foreign  market  to  rise  in  arms  and  stand 
aghast  at  our  present  assaults  on  good  taste,  good 
manners,  and  consistently  honest  thought,  for  which 
we  are  supposed  to  be  representative  examples. 

We  like  to  argue  that  the  future  security  of  mo- 
tion pictures  rests  upon  the  hold  we  can  impress  up- 
on the  heart  of  the  great  American  family.  If  this 
is  true— and  our  newspapers,  our  women’s  clubs, 
and  our  pulpits  are  beginning  to  insist  that  it  is — 
why  do  we,  who  are  purveyors  to  the  screen,  still  in- 
sist upon  injecting  these  forms  of  indecency,  be  they 
obvious  or  subtle,  into  the  very  homes  whose  fam- 
ilies we  are  seeking  to  lure  into  our  theatres  that  we 
may  thrive?  We  have  never  seen  a father  yet  who 
chuckled  over  the  fact  that  his  young  daughters  read 
shady  literature  or  indulged  in  illicit  enterprises, 
and  it  is  absurd  to  declare  now  that  one  can  with  the 
gilt  of  subtlety  disguise  the  unsightly  appearance  of 
a dump. 

The  scourge  of  this  newly  coined  phrase  “sex  ap- 
peal,” is  certainly  going  to  metamorphose  itself  into 
a most  deadly  form  of  boomerang,  if  we  don’t  mend 
our  ways.  All  the  beautiful  love  stories  of  our  pres- 
ent society  don’t  necessarily  have  to  include  untrue 
and  wildly  imaginative  pictures  of  modern  brothels 
to  supply  the  necessary  conflict  for  the  drama  any 
more  than  all  the  beautiful  love  stories  of  the  past 
have  had  to  depend  upon  junk-heap  settings  for 
their  beauty. 

Don’t  forget  that  the  public  has  not  yet  gotten 
over  the  fallacy  of  “seeing  is  believing.” 

The  “New”  Director 

INTO  the  life  of  every  enterprise  there  comes  a 
time  when  expansion  becomes  inevitable,  when 
it  seems  that  the  activity  of  the  past  should  be 
broadened  in  scope  and  limiting  barriers  leveled  to 
permit  a wider  range  of  usefulness  and  service. 

So  it  has  been  with  The  DIRECTOR. 

After  a successful  year  of  activity  as  the  official 
publication  of  the  Motion  Picture  Directors’  Asso- 
ciation, during  which  we  have  received  the  loyal 
and  whole-hearted  support  of  the  industry  of  which 
we  are  a part,  the  time  has  come  when  expansion 
seems  to  be  the  logical  move.  Having  firmly  estab- 
lished ourselves  in  the  field  of  local  activity,  we  are 
now  entering  upon  that  broader  field  of  national  ser- 
vice in  the  furtherance  of  the  premise  upon  which 
The  DIRECTOR  was  originally  founded:  the  creation 
of  a closer  understanding  between  those  who  make 
and  those  who  see  motion  pictures. 

With  this  issue,  The  DIRECTOR  emerges  as  a semi- 
technical,  semi-national  publication  of  direct  inter- 


1925 


director 


7 


est  to  everyone  concerned,  however  remotely,  with 
making,  exhibiting  or  seeing  motion  pictures. 

In  taking  such  a step  it  is  only  fitting  that,  with 
the  increased  scope  of  its  activity,  its  greater  diver- 
sity of  interest  and  its  wider  range  of  appeal,  we 
should  appear  in  a wholly  new  dress,  both  as  to 
cover  and  as  to  make-up  of  editorial  and  text  pages 
and  to  treatment  of  illustrations. 

In  this  seeming  metamorphosis  in  which  The 
DIRECTOR  emerges  from  the  classification  of  official 
publication  of  the  Motion  Picture  Directors’  Asso- 
ciation to  that  of  an  independent,  national  maga- 
zine, its  identity  has  not  been  lost,  nor  even  sub- 
merged. It  has  been  a case  of  addition  rather  than  of 
subtraction,  and  to  the  directorial  phases  of  the  old 
DIRECTOR  have  been  added  features  of  wider  inter- 
est and,  we  hope,  of  greater  value  and  service  to  our 
readers.  In  planning  the  new  dress  of  the  publica- 
tion it  has  seemed  only  fitting  that  we  should  retain 
visible  evidence  of  that  identity  which  has  been  so 
distinctly  ours  during  the  past  year,  and  so  on  the 
cover  of  this  and  subsequent  issues  will  appear  por- 
traits of  motion  picture  directors  who  are  making 
films  and  film  history. 

In  the  development  of  our  plans  for  expansion 
considerable  thought  has  been  given,  as  there  must 
be  in  any  business  enterprise,  to  the  matter  of  circu- 
lation and  advertising.  In  order  that  we  may  more 
genuinely  serve  our  advertisers,  the  make-up  of  our 
pages  has  been  changed  from  the  two-column  layout 
of  last  year,  to  a three-column  layout.  With  this  re- 
apportionment of  space  there  has  been  a propor- 
tionate reduction  in  advertising  rates  and  an  adver- 
tising service  department  instituted  with  a view  to 
making  The  Director  more  effective  as  a merchan- 
dising medium  to  our  advertisers. 

With  the  co-operation  of  our  advertisers  it  is  the 
purpose  of  the  management  to  make  the  advertising 
pages  of  The  DIRECTOR  show  windows  for  the  dis- 
play of  merchandise  of  direct  interest  and  value  to 
our  readers.  As  advertising  has  become  the  life- 
blood of  business  activity,  so  is  it  vital  to  the  success 
of  a magazine  as  a business  enterprise;  and  we  urge 
that  our  readers  “window  shop”  in  the  pages  of  The 
Director  and  heed  the  messages  of  the  merchants 
and  business  houses  there  displayed. 

No  magazine  belongs  to  its  publishers  alone,  but 
to  its  readers,  and,  while  we  may  plan  and  strive  to 
create  in  The  DIRECTOR  a magazine  in  which  you 
will  be  thoroughly  interested  and  which  you  will 
find  thoroughly  entertaining,  we  shall  succeed  only 
to  the  extent  in  which  we  have  your  co-operation 
and  support.  In  no  way  can  you  give  us  this  co-oper- 
ation more  effectually  than  by  writing  us  frankly 
concerning  the  magazine,  its  departments  and  its 
editorial  content. 


We  of  the  editorial  staff  of  The  Director  are 
sincerely  desirous  of  being  of  genuine  service  to  our 
readers.  You  can  help  us  by  writing  us  frankly 
about  the  things  you  like  and  the  things  you  don’t 
like. 

You  can  help  us,  too,  by  writing  us  about  the  pic- 
tures you  see  and  about  the  impressions  you  receive 
from  those  pictures.  This  interchange  of  ideas  be- 
tween those  who  see  and  those  who  make  motion 
pictures  is  always  of  value  and  in  no  way  can  we  be 
of  any  greater  service  both  to  the  industry  as  a whole 
and  to  our  readers,  than  by  functioning  as  the  me- 
dium for  such  an  exchange  of  ideas. 

Undoubtedly  there  are  many  matters  of  a semi- 
technical  nature  involved  in  the  making  of  films 
concerning  which  many  of  our  readers,  particularly 
those  living  at  points  remote  from  the  center  of  film 
production,  are  interested.  Write  us  about  these 
matters,  send  us  your  questions  and  let  us  procure 
the  answers  from  the  men  and  women  actively  en- 
gaged in  motion  picture  production  who  are  best 
qualified  to  give  first-hand,  authoritative  informa- 
tion. 

It  may  be  that  there  will  be  some  questions  touch- 
ing on  matters  which  are  of  such  a technical  nature 
that  detailed  answers  will  not  be  practical  in  these 
columns.  When  possible  these  questions  will  be  an- 
swered directly  to  the  inquirer  rather  than  through 
the  magazine.  Similarly,  questions  touching  on  sub- 
jects, the  answers  to  which  might  tend  to  destroy  the 
illusion  created  in  the  presentation  of  the  subject 
involved,  will  be  answered  direct.  But  there  are 
many  questions  which  may  be  frankly  discussed  in 
the  pages  of  The  DIRECTOR  without  either  divulg- 
ing what  may  be  considered  trade  secrets  or  destroy- 
ing the  effect  of  an  illusion  by  letting  you  see  how 
the  wheels  go  round,  and  what  makes  them  go. 

As  we  get  under  way  in  our  second  year  we  are 
earnestly  striving  to  create  a bigger  and  better  mag- 
azine in  every  respect.  In  this  we  have  been  encour- 
aged by  the  success  which  has  attended  our  efforts 
of  the  past,  by  the  loyal  support  which  has  been 
accorded  The  Director  during  the  first  year  of  its 
existence.  We  like  to  feel  that  our  magazine — your 
magazine,  in  matter  of  fact — is  an  integral  part  of 
the  motion  picture  industry  and  represents  in  every 
way  the  highest  ideals  of  that  industry.  We  are 
imbued  with  the  thought  that  we,  who  are,  so  to 
speak,  on  the  inside  and  in  close  daily  contact  with 
the  activities  and  problems  of  the  cinema  world,  are 
in  a position  to  be  of  genuine  service  to  those  who 
make  and  those  who  see  motion  pictures.  With  your 
co-operation  we  shall  endeavor  to  live  up  to  the 
responsibilities  of  that  position  and  with  each  suc- 
cessive issue  continue  to  give  you  a bigger  and  better 
magazine. 

Salute! 


8 


®i  rector 


September 


A Tale  of  Temperament 

(Told  by  Harry  O.  Hoyt  to  George  Landy) 


X'VE  even  made  animal  pictures, 

They’re  called  ‘the  director’s  curse’; 

But  for  hundred  per  cent,  rip-roaring  galoots, 
For  touchiness,  trouble  and  worse, 

‘The  Lost  World’  taught  me  a lesson 
In  temperamental  folks, 

That  made  all  my  other  experiences 
Look  like  a lot  of  jokes. 


job  was  to  keep  ’em  together 
And  believe  me,  boy,  it  was  some  task — 
It’s  a good  thing  I’m  not  a drinking  man, 
Or  I sure  would  have  needed  my  flask. 

these  men  were  wonderful  experts 
And  really  artistic,  too, 

They  each  knew  their  jobs — but  Oh,  ye  gods! 
What  a temperamental  crew! 


was  a film  director, 

On  the  set  he  halted  me. 

“You’ve  heard  a lot  about  temperament; 
“I’ve  met  it  oft,”  said  he. 

I’VE  written,  produced  and  shot  ’em 
Since  nineteen  hundred  and  ten; 
I’ve  handled  exotic  actresses 

And  stars,  more  devils  than  men. 


— it  wasn’t  the  brontosaurus, 

The  ‘croc’  or  even  the  monk, 

It  wasn’t  the  human  actors, 

Or  the  sets  filled  with  tropical  junk — 

It  was  all  of  the  various  experts; 

We  had  ’em  of  every  sort. 

And  each  man  held  his  opinion 
Impregnable  as  a fort. 


Yet  when  the  picture  was  over, 

All  finished  and  in  the  box, 

The  love  feast  we  all  had  together 

Made  up  for  the  troubles  and  knocks.” 


\'  V 1 ' /'/ 


©irector 


THERE’S  a distinctiveness  about  Eric  Mayne  which  makes  him  a notable  figure  wherever  he 
appears,  whether  it  is  on  the  screen  or  strolling  along  Hollywood  Boulevard. 


10 


©i  rector 


September 


ANEW  CAMERA  STUDY  of  Lucille  Lee  Stewart  in  which  the  Stewart  family  resemblance  is 
portrayed  to  an  unusual  degree.  After  a rest  period  following  her  work  with  Weber  and  Fields 
in  “Friendly  Enemies,”  Miss  Stewart  is  again  free  lancing. 


1925 


y.  i K*s  Mt  M «i 

director 


11 


THE  AMERICAN  FATHER”  is  the  title  often  applied  to  George  Irving,  since  his  particularly 
perfect  parental  performance  in  Lasky’s  “The  Goose  Hangs  High.”  After  many  years  as  a Broad- 
way player,  and  director  of  some  forty  features,  Mr.  Irving  is  now  enjoying  his  successful  return  to 

the  acting  profession. 


12 


©i  rector 


September 


WHEN  Claude  Gillingwater  left  the  dramatic  stage  for  the  greater  possibilities  of  the  screen, 
the  silver  sheet  gained  a character  actor  of  brilliance  and  power. 


192  5 


WtCTION  finiHI 

director 


13 


A M I GLAD  TO  BE  BACK  in  Hollywood?”  asks  Francis  X.  Bushman,  and  answers  his  own 
question  with  another  by  saying,  “Just  ask  me!”  Bushman  is  not  only  back  in  Hollywood,  but 

he  is  back  on  the  screen  to  stay. 


14 


'director 


September 


1925 


k ~\  MOTION 

director 


15 


16 


J X MOTION  NllIM 

©irector 


September 


HAVING  achieved  an  outstanding  success  in  “The  Gold  Rush,”  Mack  Swain  definitely  announces 
his  entry  in  the  free  lance  field  as  character  comedian  in  dramatic  productions  and  has  just  fin- 
ished such  a role  in  Valentino’s  “The  Lone  Eagle.” 


■ 

1 \ 


v 


! 


. 


ar.w 


■ 


1925 


director 


17 


Why  Hollywood? 

By  Edwin  Carewe 


TT7HY  Hollywood,  indeed? 

\\  That  is  a question  which  is  being 
asked  by  various  and  sundry 
persons  in  many  parts  of  the  country. 

Why  should  Hollywood  necessarily 
be  hailed  as  the  Film  Capital  of  the 
World?  Why  isn’t  Oshkosh  or  some 
other  place  equally  as  well  suited  to 
motion  picture  production? 

Why,  asks  Florida,  is  there  all  this 
hullabaloo  about  Hollywood  when  we 
have  the  same  climatic  facilities  and 
many  features  which  are  so  distinctly 
more  advantageous? 

Why,  asks  Detroit,  can’t  pictures  be 
made  here  just  as  well  as  automobiles? 

And  forthwith  come  reports  reading 
something  like  this: 

“Hollywood  is  Doomed ! Film 
scouts  representing  certain  big  produc- 
tion companies  are  reported  to  be  con- 
sidering local  sites  for  big  studio  in- 
vestments,” and  so  forth  ad  infinitum. 

But  still  the  cameras  grind  in  Hol- 
lywood. 

There  are  a great  many  arguments 
which  may  be  advanced  why  Holly- 
wood is  likely  to  remain  the  logical 
center  of  motion  picture  production 
activity  for  many  years  to  come,  if 
there  is  any  need  for  arguments  on 
such  a subject. 

However,  a 
frank  discussion 
very  often  will 
clarify  a clouded 
situation  and  so, 
in  treating  with 
this  subject,  I am 
going  to  state 
frankly  my  own 
experience  and 
deductions  that  I 
have  been  led  to 
draw  from  that 
experience. 

The  truth 
about  Hollywood 
as  a motion  pic- 
ture production 
center,  as  I see 
it,  may  be  ex- 
pressed in  the 
phrase,  “location- 
al atmosphere.” 

There  are 
many  other  fea- 
tures which  enter 
in  the  equation, 
of  course,  but  as 
I review  my  ex- 
perience of  the 
past  thirteen 


years  as  director  and  producer,  it  is  the 
variety  of  locational  opportunities  that 


stands  out  as  dominantly  as  anything  else 
as  the  reason  why  I prefer  to  produce  pic- 
tures in  Hollywood. 

It  has  been  my  experience  to  learn, 
at  an  expense  that  I now  shudder  to 
think  about,  that  Hollywood  holds  for 
the  producer  more  of  the  requirements 
and  accessories  which  are  so  necessary 
to  this  business,  than  either  New 
York,  Florida  or  Europe,  the  three 
centers  which,  in  the  minds  of  many, 
are  entitled  to  be  termed  “legitimate 
production  centers.” 

It  took  me  two  and  a half  years  to 
learn  that  New  York  couldn’t  hold  a 
candle  to  Hollywood  for  “locational 
atmosphere,”  studio  facilities,  equipage 
and  convenience. 

The  time  concerned  in  gaining  this 
wisdom  regarding  Florida  was  consid- 
erably less.  I spent  a year  and  a half 
there,  and,  I am  thankful  to  say,  an 
even  shorter  space  of  time  in  Europe; 
but  in  each  instance  long  enough  to 
acquire  at  first  hand  sufficient  facts  and 
figures  to  justify,  to  me  at  least,  the 
conclusion  that  Hollywood  is  the  logi- 
cal Film  Capital  of  the  World. 


THERE’S  A TOUCH  OF  OLD  SPANISH  INFLUENCES 
AT  SAN  JUAN  CAPISTRANO. 


WINTER  SCENES  WITH  REAL  SNOW  MAY  BE  FILMED  THE  ENTIRE  YEAR  AROUND 
IN  THE  HIGH  SIERRAS,  WHILE  FURTHER  TO  THE  NORTH  IS  ALASKA  WITH  ITS 
UNLIMITED  PICTURE  POSSIBILITIES. 


EW  YORK’S  greatest  asset  to 
the  motion  picture  industry 
lies  in  the  fact  that  it  is  its 
financial  center — 
the  money  capi- 
tal, if  you  please, 
— and,  of  course, 
motion  pictures 
cannot  be  made 
without  that  very 
important  ele- 
ment. 

Outside  the 
financial  end, 
however,  New 
York  offers  com- 
paratively little. 
The  most  one 
can  claim  for  it 
is  “New  York 
Atmosphere.” 

And  even  this  is 
possible  in  Hol- 
lywood at  less 
expense  than  it 
requires  to  go 
East  and  get  it. 
A moderate  ex- 
penditure, a crew 
of  capable  car- 
penters, and  lo ! 
New  York,  or 
any  portion  of  it, 
( Continued  on 
Page  48) 


18 


f)i  rector 


September 


Can  They 

Come 
Back? 

By  Bertram  A.  Holiday 


CHARLES  RAY  IN  BATTERED 
STRAW  HAT  AND  FARMER  BOOTS 
IS  A MUCH  MORE  FAMILIAR 
FIGURE. 


IN  the  viewpoint  of  some  critics,  “a  star 
is  always  a star.”  According  to  their 
slant  on  the  subject,  stardom  is  unaf- 
fected by  the  consistency  and  regularity  of 
a star’s  appearance  on  the  screen ; that  once 
a star  has  become  thoroughly  established 
in  the  hearts  of  film  followers  he  or  she 
dwells  there  eternally. 

On  the  other  hand,  advertising  men  stri- 
dently claim  that  there  is  nothing  so  short 
as  the  memory  of  the  public;  that  the 
fickleness  of  the  human  mind  is  such  that 
only  by  keeping  everlastingly  at  it,  may 
popularity  be  retained. 

All  of  which  bears  more  or  less  directly 
on  the  efforts  of  certain  well-known  screen 
luminaries  to  stage  an  effective  comeback 


period  of  retirement  and  appear 
in  a story  by  Douglas  Z.  Doty,  in 
which  she  will  present  a “refine- 
ment” of  her  former  roles.  And 
Charles  Ray,  who,  temporarily  at 
least,  abandoned  his  characteriza- 
tions of  awkward,  bashful,  self- 
conscious  adolescence  to  create  in 
Miles  Standish  a film  classic 
which  would  perpetuate  his  name 
in  screendom’s  hall  of  fame,  is  to 
return  in  the  type  of  plays  which  brought 
him  such  success  in  former  years. 

And  then  there  is  Dorothy  Phillips, 
whose  retirement,  since  the  death  of  Allen 
Holubar,  is  to  be  broken  this  fall  by  her 
return  to  stardom.  Likewise  Kathryn  Mc- 
Donald has  announced  that  she,  too,  is 
about  to  come  back  to  a screen  career,  and 
Bill  Hart  has  broken  his  screen  silence  of 
eighteen  months  to  reappear  under  the 
banner  of  United  Artists.  While  Nazi- 
mova,  whose  retirement  after  her  experi- 
ence with  Salome,  was  broken  last  year, 
is  preparing  plans  for  the  production  of  a 
series  of  dramatic  features  more  nearly  in 
tune  with  her  earlier  activities  than  the 
spectacular  productions  of  recent  years. 


on  the  silver  sheet.  In  fact,  this  seems  to 
be  an  open  season  for  comebacks. 

During  the  fall  and  early  winter  a num- 
ber of  screen  notables  who  have  been  in 
retirement  to  a greater  or  lesser  degree  are 
scheduled  once  more  to  appear  on  the 
American  screen  in  an  endeavor  to  recap- 
ture that  popularity  of  former  days  which 
made  their  names  household  words  the 
length  and  breadth  of  the  continent. 

For  instance,  in  the  forthcoming  produc- 
tion of  Ben  Hur,  scheduled  for  release  in 
December,  comes  Francis  X.  Bushman  in 
an  heroic  effort  to  re-establish  himself  in 
the  hearts  of  his  followers. 

Then  there  is  the  announcement  that 
Theda  Bara  is  about  to  break  her  long 


1925 


19 


Can  they  come  back? 

The  answer  is  on  the  laps  of  whatever 
gods  there  be  who  guide  the  destinies  of 
film  favoritism. 

Anyway,  the  results  are  going  to  be  in- 
teresting to  watch.  In  some  instances  it 
would  seem  that  the  campaigns  for  rein- 
statement have  been  planned  with  an  un- 
usual amount  of  carefulness — or  has  it  been 
just  sheer  luck  that  things  have  broken  in 
what  seems  to  be  a favorable  manner? 

FOR  instance:  Bushman  has  perhaps 

been  away  from  the  screen  for  as  long, 
if  not  longer,  than  any  of  those  men- 
tioned. In  his  return  he  has  taken  advan- 
tage of  an  exceptional  opportunity — one 
that  offers  many  possibilities — for  an  ef- 
fective comeback  in  Metro-Goldwyn- 
Mayer’s  lavish  production  of  Ben  Hur.  In 
the  heroic  guise  of  Messala,  he  has  shrewd- 
ly essayed  his  return — not  as  the  popular 
hero  of  former  days,  but  as  a heavy  of  such 
romantic  interest  as  to  possess  all  the  charm 
of  an  heroic  lead — with  a mighty  good 
chance  of  not  sacrificing  an  iota  of  his 
former  hold  on  film  favoritism  and  yet  ap- 
pearing in  a totally  different  role. 

In  such  a vehicle  as  Ben  Hur,  with  all 
the  advertising  and  exploitation  which  that 
production  must  inevitably  receive,  it 
would  be  strange  indeed  if  he  did  not  stage 
an  effective  comeback. 

MISS  BARA’S  return,  however,  is 
much  more  courageous;  for,  while 
she  has  in  Douglas  Doty’s  story, 
An  Unchastened  Woman,  a splendid  ve- 
hicle, well  suited  to  her  capabilities  as  an 
actress  and  particularly  to  the  subtle 
changes  she  is  making  in  the  characteriza- 
tions which  she  will  portray,  her  return  to 
the  screen  is,  of  course,  lacking  in  the  tre- 
mendous possibilities  attendant  upon  such 
a production  as  Ben  Hur.  However,  the 
fact  that  she  is  returning  in  characteriza- 
tions, “just  the  same  only  different,”  will 
in  all  probability  engender  a good  bit  of 
curiosity  on  the  part  of  the  theatre-going 
public. 

Her  announcement  of  a “refinement”  in 
the  interpretation  of  her  character  studies 
as  contrasted  with  her  portrayals  of  the 
past,  contains  an  element  of  interest  and  a 
certain  degree  of  promise.  With  her  first 
appearance  on  the  American  screen,  Theda 
Bara  created  a vogue  for  the  so-called  vam- 
pire stories — a vogue  which  may  or  may 
not  be  played  out,  but  in  which  she  cer- 
tainly has  had  many  imitators. 

The  significant  thing  about  her  return 
to  the  screen  in  An  Unchastened  W oman, 
then,  would  lie  in  the  fact  that,  while  she 
is  making  no  attempt  abruptly  to  depart 
from  the  character  type  in  which  she  has 
become  universally  known,  in  her  new 
role  she  is  attempting  to  introduce  subtle 
differentiations  which  will  lift  her  charac- 
terizations upon  a slightly  different  plane, 
and  one  no  less  intriguing  than  the  old,  if 


Director 


advance  reports  from  the  rushes  may  be 
given  any  credence. 

Undoubtedly  Miss  Bara  has  been  wise 
in  this  decision,  for,  having  so  definitely 
created  a role  which  has  become  distinc- 
tively her  own,  one  is  inclined  to  question 
the  popularity  of  her  return  to  the  screen 
in  any  other  type  of  play.  The  success  of 
her  return  depends  to  a certain  degree  upon 
the  hold  which  she  still  has  on  her  former 
following,  as  well  as  upon  the  element  of 
curiosity  which  inevitably  attend  such  a 
comeback. 


quite  different  from  those  found  in  the 
comeback  of  Francis  Bushman  and  Theda 
Bara. 

Other  than  that  he  withdrew  for  a time 
from  the  regularity  of  his  contributions  to 
screen  entertainment,  and  devoted  consid- 
erable time  to  the  gratification  of  cherished 
ambitions  as  represented  by  the  creation  of 
Miles  Stan  dish,  he  can  hardly  be  said  to 
have  been  away  from  the  screen,  but  only 
to  have  undergone  a temporary  retirement 
from  those  characterizations  which  have 
been  so  typical  of  him  in  the  past  and  in 


Incidentally,  it  is  going  to  be  interesting 
to  see  how  both  exchange  and  exhibitor 
will  present  her  to  the  public;  whether 
they  will  extrav- 
agantly herald 
her  return  as 
“the  greatest  por- 
trayer of  vam- 
pire roles  the 
screen  has  ever 
known,’’  or 
whether  they 
will  grasp  the 
possibilities  of  the 
subtle  differentia- 
tions introduced 
in  An  Unchas- 
tened W o m a n 
and  bill  her  in 
her  new  type  of 
characterizations. 


THE  re- 
turn of 
Charles 
Ray,  on  the 
other  hand, 
presen  t s 
angles  of 
considerable 
int  e r e s t , 


FROM  HER  RETIREMENT  OF  SOME  FIVE  YEARS  THEDA  BARA  EMERGES  IN  A 
REFINEMENT  OF  HER  FORMER  ROLES— THE  SAME,  YET  SUBTLY  DIFFERENT. 


20 


AS  MESSALA  BUSHMAN  RETURNS  TO 
THE  SCREEN  IN  HEROIC  GUISE. 


which  he  built  up  a tremendous  following. 

No  one,  least  of  all  Charles  Ray  himself, 
will  deny  that  his  venture  into  the  classic 
depiction  of  Miles  Standish  was  a mistake, 
and  to  Ray  a costly  mistake.  Nor  did  his 
one  picture  with  Thomas  H.  Ince,  just 
before  Mr.  Ince’s  death,  really  provide  a 
suitable  vehicle  for  his  peculiar  ability.  For 
Charles  Ray  is  essentially  the  interpreter 
of  American  boyhood — of  the  bashful, 
blundering,  awkward,  self-conscious  boy, 


©irector 

brought  up  on  the  farm  or  in  the  atmos- 
phere of  the  small  town.  In  these  depic- 
tions he  has  established  a distinctive  type  of 
characterization  which  is  wholly  Ray,  and 
which  few,  if  any,  screen  artists  have 
equaled. 

His  return,  then,  to  the  type  of  plays 
which  have  made  him  so  successful  in  the 
past  possesses  many  interesting  possibilities. 
He  has  hardly  been  away  long  enough  for 
the  fickleness  of  the  American  public  to 
have  done  its  damage.  The  vogue  which 
he  established  prior  to  his  withdrawal  to 
make  Miles  Standish  may  have  passed,  but 
it  is  much  more  likely  that  it  is  but  dor- 
mant for  there  has  been  but  little  if  any 
serious  attempt  on  the  part  of  his  con- 
temporaries to  meet  the  demand  for  that 
type  of  entertainment. 

And  yet  there  is  an  insistent  and  very 
real  demand  on  the  part  of  the  greater  part 
of  the  theatre-going  public  for  the  clean, 
wholesome  pictures  which  are  so  completely 
exemplified  in  Charles  Ray  productions.  In 
many  ways  Charles  Ray  represents  the 
highest  ideals  of  the  screen — ideals  that 
hold  old  friends  and  make  new  ones  for 
the  films. 

According  to  Harry  Carr  in  the  Los 
Angeles  Tunes  Preview,  Some  Pun  kins, 
the  opening  gun  in  the  Ray  campaign  to 
stage  a definite  and  successful  comeback,  is 
in  many  respects  the  best  thing  that  Ray 
has  ever  done,  not  excepting  any  of  his  for- 
mer successes. 

And  in  the  same  issue  he  quotes  Ernst 
Lubitsch  as  having  expressed  “a  hankering 
to  do  a picture  with  Charles  Ray,”  and  to 
have  said  that  “he  has  a German  play 
called  The  Simpleton  which  he  desires  to 
adapt  for  Ray’s  use.” 

All  of  which  is  extremely  interesting  at 
this  time.  What  the  combination  of 
Charles  Ray  and  Ernst  Lubitsch  might 
bring  forth  offers  food  for  interesting  spec- 
ulation; but  contractual  difficulties  would 
seem  to  stand  in  the  way  of  such  a develop- 
ment being  brought  about. 

Whether  Ray’s  appearance  in  the 
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer  production,  A Lit- 
tle Bit  of  Broadway , now  in  production  at 
the  Culver  City  studios,  will  affect  the 
comeback  he  is  staging  as  the  ideal  inter- 
preter of  American  boyhood,  remains  to  be 
seen. 

In  his  way,  Charles  Ray  has  developed 
screen  characterizations  as  distinctly  indi- 
vidual to  himself  as  those  created  by  Chap- 
lin and  Fairbanks.  Is  he  yet  destined  to 
become  the  uncrowned  king  of  American 
youth  as  depicted  on  the  screen,  and  to  take 
his  place  with  those  other  “immortals”  of 
the  silver  sheet  whose  individuality  of  con- 
ception has  lifted  them  to  planes  of  dis- 
tinctiveness wholly  their  own? 

Time  and  the  verdict  of  the  theatre- 
going public  alone  will  tell. 


September 

RUBAIYAT  OF  A STAR 

Anonymous 

Sleep!  For  the  sun  who  scattered  into 
flight, 

The  Stars  — and  such  — who  frolicked 
through  the  night. 

Drives  darkness  from  the  world — all  par- 
ties end 

When  Hollywood  is  touched  with  dawn's 
first  light! 

Come,  empty  adulation  s cup,  the  fire 
of  Hope  is  warm.  . . . When  winds  of 
time  mount  higher. 

The  birds  of  Paradise  fly  south,  to  some 
new  set, 

And  leaves  us  cold,  with  nothing  but 
desire! 

Whether  at  Long  Beach,  or  at  Paris,  Mo., 
W e,  zvho  know  not  upon  which  road  we 
go; 

Must  realize  that  fame  passes  as  the  rose. 
That  withers  in  the  cold  of  sudden  snow. 

Each  season  brings  its  beauties  new,  you 
say — 

And  shelves  the  lot  that  blossomed  yester- 
day? 

Next  year  the  same  publicity  we  knew 
Will  start  some  fresh  young  comet  on  her 
way. 

What  if  the  play  we’re  working  on  shall 
die 

In  two  months'  time ? What  if  the  dust 
will  fly 

When  the  director  meets  his  boss?  Myself, 
1 may  be  through  for  good  by  next  July! 

The  Public  gives  applause  — and  having 
said 

Its  say,  moves  on  ..  . the  Public  must 
be  fed 

With  pretty  pictures  and  with  interviews, 
Or  else  its  love  for  us  will  soon  be  dead. 

I sometimes  think  that  every  Star,  well 
cast, 

Leaves  just  one  thing,  one  little  note,  to 
last — 

The  Pick  ford  curls,  the  Fairbanks  smile, 
the  feet 

Of  Chaplin  will  live  on  when  years  have 
passed. 

And  me — when  I have  gone  beyond  the 
pale, 

Taking  my  share  ( God  willing!)  of  the 
kale — 

Perhaps  they  will  remember  how  I danced, 
And  that  I looked  so  innocent  and  frail. 

And,  as  the  light  shines  on  the  silver  sheet. 
And  music  syncopates  for  some  new  feet, 
Hands  will  still  clap,  but  there  will  be  no 
sound 

Of  Jazz  to  penetrate  my  last  retreat. 


1925 


f MOTION  Mi  1 1 Rf 

■©irector 


21 


SCENE  FROM  “THE  MOUTH  OF  THE  CANON”  BY  HARRY  COTTRELL,  AS  PUT  ON  BY  THE  COMPANY  IN  1902. 
HARRY  POLLARD,  THE  DIRECTOR,  IS  THE  CHAP  ON  THE  FLOOR,  FRANK  COOLEY  IS  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  MUSTACHE 

AND  THE  GUN  IN  HIS  HAND. 


The  Barnstormer 


Part  II 

AFTER  a poor  week  in  Nogales,  we 
r~\  started  for  La  Colorado.  The  round 
trip  cost  me  $86,  which  about 
cleaned  me,  so  I borrowed  $35  from  Mr. 
Marsh,  the  Nogales  manager.  I knew  I 
wouldn’t  need  it  if  we  did  any  business  at 
all  in  Mexico,  but  wanted  to  make  sure 
we  would  not  have  to  linger  too  long  with 
the  Mexicans. 

We  found  Mexico  awful.  I had  writ- 
ten Mr.  Quiros,  the  La  Colorado  man- 
ager, requesting  him  to  engage  a room  for 
my  daughter,  wife  and  myself.  He  met 
me  on  our  arrival  and  conducted  me  to  our 
room.  The  floor  was  good  old  earth,  the 
windows  wide  open,  with  a crowd  of  Mex- 
ican children  peering  through ; flies  by  the 
millions,  and  a half-grown  Plymouth  Rock 
rooster  with  about  seven  feathers  and  a 
very  red  skin,  scratching  the  earth  in  the 
center  of  the  room.  I complained  to  Qui- 
ros, who  was  surprised,  and  said  it  was 
the  very  best  to  be  had  in  town. 


By  Frank  Cooley 

I was  not  convinced  and  went  “room- 
hunting” alone,  finding  one  over  the  drug 
store,  furnished  with  two  canvas  cots,  four 
sheets  and  one  pillow,  and  that  was  all. 
I found  a coal  oil  can  which  served  as  a 
water  pitcher.  The  druggist  loaned  me  a 
tin  wash-basin,  and  I found  a small  mirror 
in  the  wardrobe  trunk  that  was  not  in  the- 
atrical use.  The  room  was  clean,  however, 
and  had  a board  floor,  while  upstairs  the 
members  of  the  company  found  accommo- 
dations at  the  hotel,  where  the  proprietor, 
by  placing  two  and  three  in  a room,  was 
finally  able  to  lodge  them. 

We  found  the  theatre  flooded  so  we 
couldn’t  show  that  night,  but  the  follow- 
ing night  promised  big  business  as  Thurs- 
day was  pay  day  in  the  mines  for  the  Mex- 
icans, and  Quiros  promised  their  money 
would  soon  be  ours.  The  town  boasted  of 
no  street  lamps  and  ordinarily  real  dark- 
ness came  with  night,  but  Thursday 
booths, lighted  by  torches,  were  in  evidence 
everywhere,  some  selling  sweet  cakes  and 


candy,  others  equipped  with  different  kinds 
of  catch  penny  devices. 

Our  audience  was  a little  larger  that 
night  but  not  much;  all  seemed  to  have 
been  drinking,  more  or  less.  Quiros  car- 
ried out  the  little  trombone  player  during 
the  second  act,  drunk  as  a lord  and  asleep. 
The  Mexicans  were  not  satisfied  and  re- 
fused to  leave  after  the  performance  and 
demanded  more  singing  and  dancing. 
There  seemed  nothing  to  do  but  accommo- 
date them.  This  so  pleased  them  that  a 
delegation  waited  on  us  after  the  show  and 
invited  us  all  to  have  a drink. 

Friday  night  the  entire  orchestra  was 
drunk  and  Mrs.  Cooley  played  the  piano 
for  which  Quiros  paid  her  ten  dollars, 
Mex.  I had  a canvas  hung  around  the 
piano  so  she  could  slip  out  while  the  show 
was  on  and  play  without  being  seen,  but 
I forgot  to  cover  from  the  piano  to  the 
floor,  so  when  she  was  playing,  the  Mexi- 
cans on  that  side  of  the  house  paid  very 


?1 


T’N  Mono**  wntw 

©irector 


September 


little  attention  to  the  performance  but 
pointed  to  her  dress  and  speculated  as  to 
which  actress  was  the  musician.  Every 
time  she  changed  her  dress  a new  discus- 
sion started. 

Saturday  night  was  the  poorest  of  the 
week  and  the  whole  town  seemed  to  be 
drunk.  We  were  to  leave  for  the  U.S. 
late  Sunday  afternoon  so  we  decided  to 
give  a matinee  at  one  o’clock,  a vaudeville 
program.  I was  down  for  a six-round  go 
with  two  of  the  boys,  I continuous,  the 
boys  alternating,  so  they  would  have  a 
three-minute  rest  between  rounds.  The 
wife  and  self  were  invited  to  have  lunch- 
eon with  the  superintendent  of  the  big 
Rothschild’s  copper  mine,  where  things 
were  so  pleasant  that  the  matinee  was  well 
under  way  when  we  got  there.  The  box- 
ing idea  had  evidently  caught  on,  as  the 
place  was  well  filled.  Joe  was  on  the  door. 
I guess  the  boxing  pleased  better  than  the 
show,  though  the  twenty-eight  dollars  he 
turned  over  to  me  was  about  one-third 
of  what  I judged  the  house 
to  be.  I said  nothing,  but 
thought  a lot. 

Matinee  over,  we  hurried 
to  the  depot  accompanied  by 
several  of  the  boys  from  the 
mine,  who  really  hated  to  see 
us  go.  While  waiting  for  the 
train,  which  was  a little  late, 

I heard  one  of  the  actors  ac- 
cuse Joe  of  holding  out  on 
the  matinee.  The  same 
thought  was  working  in  my 
mind  too,  so  when  Joe  threat- 
ened to  punch  the  boy’s  nose 
I immediately  remarked  that 
if  there  was  to  be  any  punch- 
ing done  I was  in  on  it. 

Joe  stuck  out  his  jaw  and 

remarked : “The  you 

will!” 

The  temptation  was  too 
great.  I put  him  down  six 
times  before  the  boys  from 
the  mine  caught  me,  begging 
me  to  stop,  declaring  that  I 
would  be  arrested  and  locked 
in  an  old  abandoned  tunnel,  the  town’s 
best  jail,  if  I didn’t.  While  they  held  me 
Joe  drove  two  hard  rights  to  my  face  be- 
fore he  could  be  stopped. 

1 he  train  came  along  and  we  said  good 
by  to  El  Colorado  and  a lot  of  good  scouts. 
I for  one  was  glad  to  be  on  the  way  to 
the  U.S.,  though  I learned  later  that  there 
was  at  least  one  place  worse  than  Mexico, 
as  far  as  I was  concerned,  in  our  own 
country;  yes,  in  the  must  boasted  Cali- 
fornia, too.  We  stopped  a while  at  No- 
gales, long  enough  for  me  to  fire  Joe — and 
hire  him  again — pay  Mr.  Marsh  his  thirty- 
five  that  I had  not  needed,  and  then  pro- 
ceed to  Bisbee. 

We  found  a town  of  about  five  thousand 
people,  no  sewers  and  no  drinking  water. 

1 he  town  was  built  over  a gulch  and  they 
depended  on  water  spouts  in  the  mountains 


to  flush  the  gulch  where  they  allowed  all 
their  sewage  to  accumulate.  The  water 
spout  was  long  overdue  and  as  a result 
there  were  over  one  hundred  and  fifty 
cases  of  typhoid  fever.  We  had  to  cross 
the  gulch  by  way  of  a bridge  to  reach  the 
theatre  and 
the  smell  was 
something  aw- 
ful. Before 
the  first  week 
was  finished 
several  of  the 
company  com- 
plained  of 
sickness  — my 
little  daughter 
was  one  and, 
from  a chub- 
by little  girl, 
was  fast  be- 
coming a very 
thin  one; 
while  my  wife 


FRANK  COOLEY,  THEN  AND  NOW. 

could  barely  leave  her  room. 

The  boys  were  drinking — I had  to  take 
charge  of  one,  put  him  to  bed,  took  away 
his  pants  and  locked  him  in  his  room,  but 
a little  later  I caught  him  going  down- 
stairs clad  in  a shirt  and  shoes.  I suc- 
ceeded in  getting  him  back  in  his  room  but 
had  to  watch  him  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 

Bisbee  didn’t  do  much  for  us  financially; 
the  terrific  heat  was  probably  responsible, 
as  the  show  was  now  in  good  working 
order.  We  were  there  ten  nights,  then 
started  for  Tucson.  We  had  to  wait  over 
one  night  at  Benson  and  concluded  to  show 
there. 

We  rented  the  town  hall  for  five  dol- 
lars. There  was  no  stage,  so  we  arranged 
our  scenery  on  the  floor,  borrowed  some 
lamps  for  footlights,  placing  a cracker  box 
in  front  of  each  lamp.  A lot  of  work  and 


at  twenty  minutes  of  nine  not  a soul  in 
the  house.  I was  “made  up”  with  a long 
coat  on  and  “tending  door,”  pretty  well 
disgusted.  About  nine  o’clock  I noticed 
lights  in  different  directions  bobbing  about 
but  all  coming  nearer.  Suddenly  families 
of  five  and  more  began  to 
appear  out  of  the  darkness 
and  make  their  way  to  the 
door.  Business  at  once  be- 
came brisk  and  by  the  time 
I had  to  make  my  appear- 
ance on  the  stage,  I had 
ninety-eight  dollars  in  my 
pocket.  This  was  the  larg- 
est amount  we  had  ever 
played  to  and  Joe  probably 
got  a few  dollars  for  him- 
self, as  he  took  the  door 
when  I left. 

We  started  for  Tucson 
next  morning  feeling  pretty 
good.  There  Mowrey  met 
us  at  the  train  decked  out 
in  a new  hat,  shirt,  trousers 
and  shoes.  We  opened  to 
sixty-two  dollars — it  seemed 
that  we  just  couldn’t  get  out 
of  the  sixty-dollar  class  for 
an  opener  and  Mowrey  had 
drawn  twenty  dollars  in 
spite  of  my  warning  and  his 
own  promises.  After  de- 
ducting what  he  had  drawn  I received 
twenty  dollars  for  my  share.  He  also  had 
accumulated  a very  nice  bill  at  the  hotel, 
so  it  took  almost  two  night’s  receipts  for 
him  alone.  We  needed  money  badly  and 
as  there  was  no  great  value  in  Mowrey’s 
work,  I let  him  go,  this  time  for  good. 
He  returned  to  Phoenix. 

We  were  billed  to  play  Sapho  in  Tucson 
and  started  rehearsal.  My  leading  lady 
“struck”  for  money  to  buy  clothes  for  the 
part  of  Sapho;  money  I didn’t  have,  so  I 
cast  her  for  the  aunt  and  put  Mrs.  Cooley 
in  Sapho.  This  was  the  wife’s  first  long 
part  and  scared  her  considerably  but  she 
“got  by”  in  very  good  shape.  Joe,  who 
attended  to  the  newspapers,  was  quite  par- 
tial to  our  leading  lady  and  on  our  first 
performance  of  Sapho,  which,  by  the  way, 
was  the  best  first  performance  we  ever 
gave,  he  wrote  a very  sarcastic  notice  about 
Mrs.  C.  “biting  off  more  than  she  could 
chew.”  This  was  too  much,  as  I figured 
she  had  saved  the  day,  for  Sapho  gave  us 
by  far  the  biggest  house  of  our  stay  and 
later  proved  our  banner  drawing  card  al- 
ways. Joe  was  sent  to  console  Mowrey  in 
Phoenix,  and  luck  began  to  smile  on  us  at 
last. 

At  the  end  of  our  Tucson  stay,  I again 
had  a bank  roll  of  one  hundred  and  sixty 
dollars  after  all  bills  were  paid  and  the 
company  was  allowed  to  draw  a little.  Our 
next  stand  was  Phoenix  where  we  were  to 
play  a return  date  of  one  week.  As  most 
of  the  company  assembled  in  the  office  of 
the  Reed  Hotel,  Tucson,  about  to  start 
(Continued  on  Page  44) 


1925 


©irector 


23 


IN  this  “infant  industry”  of  ours  to  say 
that  a player,  director  or  writer  served 
_ his  apprenticeship  or  gained  his  early 
film  experience  with  the  old  Biograph 
company  is  synonymous  with  saying  that 
that  individual  is  a charter  member  of  the 
Old-timers’  Club,  and  ha6  in  truth  grown 
up  with  the  industry. 

For  it  has  been  from  the  prop  rooms, 
the  camera  stands  and  the  rank  and  file  of 
the  old  Biograph  Company,  one  of  the 
pioneer  production  units  of  the  defunct 
General  Film  Company,  that  many  of  our 
most  notable  film  luminaries  have  come. 
It  was  from  that  organization  that  the 
screen  world  received  its  David  Wark 
Griffith,  its  Mary  Pickford,  its  Norma 
Talmadge,  its  Blanche  Sweet,  and  a host 
of  the  bright  lights  of  the  silver  sheet. 

And  it  was  from  that  old  organization 
that  William  Beaudine — better  and  more 
universally  known  in  the  motion  picture 
world  as  “Bill”  Beaudine — emerged  to  be- 
gin his  steady  climb  up  the  ladder  of  fame 
and  success. 

The  story  of  his  career  is  reminiscent  of 
one  of  Horatio  G.  Alger’s  yarns  of  the 
newsboy  who  became  president;  for  “Bill” 
Beaudine  began,  not,  as  so  many  directors 
have  begun,  as  an  actor  before  the  camera, 
but  in  the  much  less  conspicuous  position 
of  assistant  property  man — perhaps  it 
might  be  phrased,  with  more  literal  appli- 
cation of  truth,  as  assistant  property  boy. 
Both  the  industry  and  “Bill”  Beaudine 
were  young  in  those  days. 

And  despite  the  imposing  array  of  old- 
time  production  units  with  which  he  has 
been  associated,  and  the  long  and  varied 
experience  he  has  had  in  the  motion  picture 
industry,  no  one  can  dub  William  Beau- 
dine an  old  man  and  get  away  with  it. 
Not  when  the  birth  records  of  the  City  of 
New  York  show  him  to  have  been  born  in 
that  city  in  1892;  from  which  mental  arith- 
metic deduces  the  fact  that  he  is — well, 
one  of  the  youngest  directors  in  the  game 
as  well  as  one  of  the  biggest. 

In  the  lowly  position  of  assistant  prop- 
erty boy  “Bill”  Beaudine  had  plenty  of 
opportunity  for  using  his  eyes  and  the 
events  of  the  past  few  years  afford  ample 
indication  that  he  did  so.  But  that  didn’t 
keep  him  from  being  a bang-up  good  assis- 
tant property  boy  as  he  must  have  been  to 
have  impelled  Mickey  Neilan  to  bring  him 
out  to  the  Coast  with  him  as  his  assistant. 


And  it  is  a matter  of  justifiable  pride  on 
“Bill”  Beaudine’s  part  that  he  has  not 
only  grown  up  with  the  industry  but  has 
grown  up  with  Mickey  Neilan. 

Events  moved  rapidly  in  those  old  days 
and  the  opportunities  for  advancement 
were  much  more  frequent  than  they  are 
today.  He  had  not  been  on  the  Coast  for 
so  very  long  before  an  opportunity  came 
for  him  to  wield  the  director’s  megaphone 
on  his  own  on  the  Triangle  lot. 

That  was  some  nine  years  ago  and  for 
several  years  “Bill”  Beaudine  confined  his 
directorial  activities  to  mirth-makers,  wind- 
ing up  his  comedy  direction  at  the  Christie 
studios  where  he  produced,  among  others, 
Rustic  Romeo,  Mixed  Drinks,  Pass  the 


Apples,  Eve,  Watch  Your  Step,  and  All 
Jazzed  Up. 

Forsaking  straight  comedy  for  drama 
and  comedy  drama,  he  made,  among  his 
early  dramatic  productions  Penrod  and 
Sam,  for  First  National,  later  making  A 
Self-made  Failure  for  the  same  organiza- 
tion. Two  years  ago  he  Avas  signed  on  a 
long-term  contract  by  Warner  Brothers, 
for  whom  he  has  already  produced  The 
Narrow  Street,  W andering  Husbands, 
Daring  Youth,  The  Broadway  Butterfly, 
Cornered  and  Boy  of  Mine. 

When  Mary  Pickford  decided  to  make 
Little  Annie  Rooney  she  picked  out  “Bill” 
Beaudine  as  the  logical  man  to  direct  and, 
through  the  courtesy  of  Warner  Brothers, 


24 


©irector 


September 


MISS  PICKFORD  MEETS  WILLIAM  BEAUDINE,  JR.,  AS  THE  YOUNG  MAN  WHO  WILL  BE  HER  DIRECTOR  IS  YEARS  FROM  NOW. 


arrangements  were  made  whereby  he  was 
loaned  to  the  Mary  Pickford  Company  for 
that  picture  and  was  retained  for  Scraps, 
which  is  now  entering  production.  Upon 
the  completion  of  these  two  pictures  he  is 
scheduled  to  return  to  Warner  Brothers. 

From  the  day  when  Mickey  Neilan  took 
him  under  his  wing  “Bill”  Beaudine’s  rise 
to  the  top  of  the  ladder  has  been  steady  and 
sure.  Today  he  is  sitting  on  the  world, 
ranking  among  the  foremost  motion  pic- 
ture directors  in  the  business,  president  of 
the  Motion  Picture  Directors’  Association, 
and  recognized  as  one  of  the  dominant  fig- 
ures of  the  industry. 

But  there  are  other  sides  to  William 
Beaudine  than  just  being  a bang-up  good 
director  and  leading  light  of  the  film 
world. 

In  the  radio  world  he  is  almost  equally 
as  well  known  and  there  are  hosts  of  radio 
fans  throughout  the  country  who  know 
him  as  “B.B.”  and  as  announcer  for  KFI 
and  for  KFWB.  Radio  has  in  fact  be- 
come more  than  a keen  delight  with  him; 


it  has  become  a hobby  in  which  he  in- 
dulges whenever  opportunity  permits. 

And  then  there  is  the  solid,  substantial 
citizen  side — the  phase  of  William  Beau- 
dine’s daily  life  which  is  less  known,  his 
interest  in  civic  affairs,  his  activity  in  pro- 
moting the  best  interests  of  Hollywood. 

William  Beaudine  has  made  money  in 
pictures  and  has  invested  that  money  in 
Hollywood.  All  his  interests  are  here.  In 
addition  to  real  estate  investments  he  is 
identified  with  several  Hollywood  business 
firms  and  keeps  closely  in  touch  with  their 
activities. 

Such  a man  is  William  Beaudine,  the 
man  who  appears  on  the  cover  of  this  issue 
of  The  Director,  and,  incidentally,  the 
first  director  whose  picture  has  so  appeared. 


To  Use  Technicolor  Process 

PLANS  of  the  Douglas  Fairbanks  Com- 
panj'  to  produce  The  Black  Pirate  in 
colors  are  being  watched  with  much  in- 
terest. Just  how  extensively  the  techni- 


color process  will  be  used  has  not  yet  been 
determined.  Preliminary  experiments  in 
this  respect,  according  to  statements  from 
the  Fairbanks  lot,  have  not  proved  con- 
clusive and  further  experimenting  is  still 
under  way.  That  at  least  a part  of  the 
production  will  be  in  color  seems  certain, 
however. 

The  probabilities  of  color  photography 
being  used  has  presented  new  problems  in 
the  selection  of  the  cast,  particularly  in 
the  selection  of  the  leading  woman.  Some- 
thing like  one  thousand  applicants  were 
considered  for  the  part.  Not  only  was 
there  the  peculiar  fitness  for  the  role, 
which  Doug  has  insisted  upon,  to  be  con- 
sidered, but  also  the  applicant’s  ability  to 
register  in  color  as  well  as  in  black  and 
white.  Consequently,  in  addition  to  the 
usual  screen  test,  there  was  a color  test 
to  which  the  girls  who  had  qualified  on 
previous  tests  were  subjected. 

Final  selection  brought  Billy  Dove  the 
coveted  honor. 


1925 


JpV  Mt»TX*r»  PM  1 l"U 

director 


25 


Thundering 

Silence 

A Novel  by  H.  H.  Van  Loan 


What  Has  Gone  Before 

FOR  two  years  Howard  Chapin,  an 
ex-convict,  has  been  taking  the  place 
of  John  Morgan,  Los  Angeles  banker 
and  clubman,  in  the  business  and  social 
w’orld.  At  midnight,  April  8,  the  strange 
pact  expires.  Morgan  appears  at  the  ap- 
pointed hour  in  the  role  of  a derelict  and 
informs  Chapin  that  he  has  no  desire  to 
return  to  his  former  existence.  During 
his  wanderings  he  has  found  the  woman  he 
loves  and  he  is  going  to  return  to  her. 
Chapin  learns  that  Mrs.  Morgan,  who  has 
been  on  a world  voyage,  is  returning  the 
next  day.  He  is  shown  her  photograph  by 
Morgan,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 
his  admiration  is  aroused  for  one  of  the 
opposite  sex.  He  now  realizes  the  futility 
for  a continuance  of  the  deception.  He 
cannot  go  on  with  it;  he  will  not  deceive 
her. 

Chapin  has  paid  every  debt  left  by  Moi- 
gan  when  the  latter  went  away,  and  has 
accumulated  $150,000  in  cash.  Morgan 
learns  where  the  money  is  hidden  and  takes 
it.  Chapin  wants  to  know  what  is  going 
to  happen  to  Mrs.  Morgan,  whereupon 
Morgan  informs  him  that  his  life  is  in- 
sured for  $200,000  and  that  Morgan  is 
better  off  dead  than  alive.  John  Morgan 
is  going  to  die  that  night.  And,  Chapin 
is  Morgan!  Thereupon,  Morgan  com- 
pels Chapin  to  take  a revolver  and  retire 
to  the  den,  for  the  purpose  of  committing 
the  suicide  of  Morgan. 

Meantime  “Big  Red”  McMahon  and 
his  gang  of  crooks  are  worried  over  the 
prolonged  absence  of  “Spider”  Kelly,  who 
has  gone  out  to  “pull  a job.”  A little  later 
the  police  are  called  to  the  Morgan  resi- 
dence to  investigate  the  financier’s  death, 
and  decide  it  is  a clear  case  of  suicide. 
However,  Herbert  Spencer,  a police  re- 
porter on  The  Examiner,  does  not  agree 
with  the  police  theory.  The  Examiner 
“scoops”  the  other  papers  and  Spencer  goes 
out  to  make  a thorough  investigation.  “Big 
Red”  and  his  gang  are  surprised  upon 
learning  of  the  death  of  Morgan,  and  they 
are  of  the  opinion  that  “Spider”  Kelly 
double-crossed  them  and  made  a getaway 
with  the  fortune. 

Meantime,  The  Empress  of  India  is  ap- 
proaching San  Pedro  from  the  Orient  and 


among  her  passengers  is  Claudia  Carlstedt. 
She  is  overcome  as  she  reads  a wireless 
bulletin  announcing  the  death  of  Morgan. 
When  the  steamer  docks,  a derelict  boards 
the  ship  and  goes  to  her  cabin.  She  opens 
the  door  and  as  she  stares  in  amazement 
at  the  man  she  exclaims,  “John!”  With 
that  exclamation  she  throws  herself  into 
the  man’s  arms.  Claudia  faints  and  the 
man  places  her  on  a divan  and  revives  her. 
She  is  confused  and  bewildered,  for  she 
believes  the  man  is  John  Morgan.  The 
stranger  informs  her  that  Morgan  is  really 
dead  and  that  he  was  murdered  the  night 
before. 

He  warns  her  that  she  must  not  go  to 
the  Morgan  residence,  and  when  she  asks 
him  for  an  explanation  he  calmly  tells  her 
that  he  is  Howard  Chaoin.  He  adds  that 
they  must  not  be  seen  leaving  the  steamer 
together,  and  gives  her  an  address  where 
he  instructs  her  to  go  immediately  and 
where  he  will  join  her  presently.  Thev 
are  impressed  with  each  other  and  each 
is  wondering  what  role  the  other  is  playing 
in  this  baffling  mystery. 

Later,  a Japanese  gardener  finds  the 
body  of  a slain  man  along  the  Ventura 
highway,  which  is  identified  by  Detective 
Aulbert  as  the  crook,  “Spider”  Kelly. 
Meanwhile,  The  Examiner  staff  is  won- 
dering what  has  happened  to  Spencer,  who 
has  strangely  dropped  out  of  sight.  At 
the  same  time,  “Big  Red”  McMahon’s 
gang  have  learned  of  Kelly’s  death  and 
they  believe  their  chief  has  carried  out  his 
threat  to  kill  Kelly.  But,  at  the  moment, 
“Big  Red”  enters,  and  much  to  the  surprise 
of  all,  denies  any  knowledge  of  the  crime. 
Just  then  Detective  Aulbert  enters  and 
asks  “Big  Red”  the  name  of  the  man  who 
killed  the  “Spider.”  “Big  Red”  professes 
ignorance,  and  Aulbert  is  inclined  to  be- 
lieve him  and  is  about  to  leave,  when  the 
door  suddenly  opens  and  there,  to  the  great 
surprise  of  the  gang,  stands  “Spider”  Kelly 
on  the  threshold. 

In  the  meantime,  Spencer  is  being  held 
a prisoner  in  a shack  on  the  outskirts  of 
San  Pedro.  He  overpowers  the  sentry  and 
makes  his  escape  and  dashes  towards  Los 
Angeles. 

Chapin  learns  that  Claudia  did  not  go 
to  the  address  he  had  given  her  when  they 


parted  at  the  steamer,  and  he  is  wondering 
what  has  happened  to  her  when  he  receives 
a message,  apparently  from  Mrs.  John 
Morgan,  urging  him  to  come  to  the  Mor- 
gan residence  at  once.  Deeply  mystified, 
Chapin  starts  for  the  Morgan  home. 

Chapter  IX 

TWENTY  minutes  later,  Chapin 
dismissed  his  taxi  in  front  of  the 
Morgan  residence  on  South  Hobart 
Boulevard  and  briskly  made  his  way  up 
the  stone  steps  to  the  front  entrance.  As 
he  rang  the  bell  he  glanced  a little  ner- 
vously towards  the  street,  for  he  realized 
he  was  taking  a desperate  chance  in  com- 
ing back  here.  The  neighborhood  seemed 
deserted,  for  it  was  late ; and  except  for  an 
occasional  light  along  the  street,  the  entire 
boulevard  seemed  divested  of  life.  But 
he  recalled  there  never  seemed  to  be  much 
activity  here.  The  residents  were  wealthy 
and  the  majority  of  them  divided  their 
time  between  Del  Monte,  Coronado  and 
Palm  Beach,  and  when  not  at  one  of  these 
fashionable  resorts  they  could  be  found  on 
the  sands  at  Biarritz,  Deauville  or  Monte 
Carlo.  These  beautiful  homes  were  hardly 
more  than  mere  addresses  for  the  reception 
of  mail. 

These  thoughts  flashed  through  his  mind 
as  he  waited  for  some  response  to  the  bell. 
But  none  came.  He  rang  again  and  waited. 
After  a reasonable  wait,  he  tried  the  door 
and  found  it  unlocked.  Chapin  was  a 
little  surprised  at  this,  and  he  pondered  a 
moment  and  then  he  slowly  opened  the 
door  and  entered.  He  paused  just  inside 
the  threshold,  and  after  closing  the  door, 
leaned  against  it  and  gazed  around  the 
spacious  hallway  with  considerably  curi- 
osity. It  was  quite;  in  fact,  absolute  si- 
lence reigned.  A slight  chill  sped  down 
his  spine  for  an  instant,  but  he  was  able 
to  rid  himself  of  it  almost  immediately 
and  to  supplant  it  with  a feeling  of  secur- 
ity. Then  he  moved  slowly  away  from 
the  door  and  walked  towards  the  center 
of  the  hallway.  To  his  right  was  a large 
entrance  leading  into  the  library.  The  door 
was  open  and  he  was  conscious  of  an  un 
comfortable  feeling  as  he  glanced  into  the 
darkened  room.  He  turned  and  looked 
towards  the  room  opposite.  It  was  the 
drawing  room  and  he  discovered  it  to  be 
flooded  with  light.  He  stepped  to  the 
doorway  and  looked  inside.  The  room 
was  apparently  deserted,  and  he  strolled 
across  the  threshold  and  paused  near  a 
table  in  the  center  and  lighted  a cigarette. 
Then,  as  he  took  a deep  draught  he  stud- 
ied his  surroundings  more  closely  and  took 
a mental  inventory  of  the  place.  Every- 
thing seemed  to  be  the  same  as  when  he 
had  left  it,  from  the  big  velvet  drapes 
which  hung  before  the  French  windows  to 
the  heavy  Italian  tapestry  which  adorned 
the  south  wall.  There  was  an  atmosphere 
of  precision  and  neatness  about  the  room 
which  had  been  established  years  before  by 
Morgan  and  maintained  by  Chapin  during 


26 


the  time  he  had  portrayed  his  unique  role. 
During  his  brief  absence  nothing  had  been 
changed ; the  room  seemed  to  have  been 
ignored. 

He  strolled  over  to  the  mantelpiece,  on 
which  rested  a clock  of  Italian  marble.  It 
was  a beautiful  piece  of  workmanship  with 
a face  of  solid  gold.  He  discovered  it  was 
going,  and  its  hands  registered  the  time  as 
being  exactly  a half  hour  past  midnight. 
He  glanced  at  his  watch  and  it  agreed 
with  the  clock.  As  he  calmly  put  his  watch 
back  into  his  pocket  he  smiled.  Strange 
that  he  hadn’t  noticed  that  clock  before. 
It  was  the  only  thing  that  broke  the  in- 
tense silence  and  its  tick-tick-tick-tick 
seemed  thunderous  now.  It  also  reminded 
him  that  someone  must  have  been  here 
since  he  left,  for  it  had  been  one  of  Rick- 
ett’s  duties  to  wind  that  clock  every  morn- 
ing precisely  at  eight.  This  also  recalled 
to  him  that  he  had  not  seen  Ricketts.  The 
old  butler  had  always  been  so  patient  and 
loyal.  Hours  had  meant  nothing  to  him, 
and  he  could  not  be  bribed  into  shirking  a 
single  item  of  the  day’s  routine,  which  usu- 
ally started  at  seven  in  the  morning  and 
continued  until  such  hour  as  Chapin  was 
ready  to  retire. 

It  was  quite  evident  that  Ricketts  was 
not  a member  of  the  household  any  longer, 
or  the  door  would  have  been  locked  and 
he  would  have  thrust  his  head  into  the 
room  at  least  a half  dozen  times  to  make 
certain  the  guest  was  comfortable.  For 
Ricketts  worried  about  every  guest,  once 
he  had  crossed  the  Morgan  threshold,  and 
Ricketts  never  rested  until  he  had  left. 
Peculiar  old  codger  was  Ricketts. 

According  to  the  newspapers,  the  poor 
old  butler  had  received  quite  a grilling  at 
the  hands  of  the  police.  From  the  pub- 
lished accounts,  it  looked  as  though  they 
might  have  even  been  a little  suspicious  of 
Ricketts.  But  one  look  at  Ricketts’  honest 
old  face  would  convince  even  the  most 
casual  observer  that  he  was  the  personi- 
fication of  goodness.  However,  the  police 
suspect  everybody. 

Chapin  had  dropped  into  a big  easy 
chair  as  he  pondered  over  these  things  and 
waited,  as  his  gaze  studied  the  floor. 

Suddenly  he  became  aware  of  another 
presence,  and  as  he  slowly  lifted  his  eyes 
and  looked  toward  the  entrance  he  discov- 
ered Claudia  standing  on  the  threshold  of 
the  drawing  room.  He  was  momentarily 
startled  as  he  beheld  her  tall,  majestic 
figure  and  then  he  rose  and  bowed  slightly 
as  he  calmly  faced  her  and  waited  for  her 
to  speak. 

She  was  radiantly  beautiful,  in  a cling- 
ing black  velvet  gown  which  emphasized 
her  perfectly  molded  form  and  accentu- 
ated her  sensuousness.  If  she  had  labored 
a considerable  time  over  her  toilette  in 
order  to  arouse  his  deepest  admiration,  her 
efforts  had  not  been  in  vain,  for  as  he 
feasted  his  eyes  upon  her  he  realized  again 
at  this,  their  second  meeting,  that  she  was 
the  most  exquisite  creature  he  had  ever 


T MOTto*  nruu 

‘director 

seen.  She  was  voluptuous  . . . divine! 
She  was  one  of  those  women  for  which 
men  would  make  tremendous  sacrifice.  Un- 
doubtedly there  were  men  who  would  en- 
dure great  adversity  to  live  for  her,  and 
others  would  willingly  throw  their  lives 
at  her  feet,  for  her  to  trample  on.  And 
yet,  while  hers  was  apparently  a cold, 
worldly  beauty,  Chapin  seemed  to  discover 
behind  it  a peculiar  charm  and  refinement 
which,  combined  with  a most  bewitching 
personality,  that  succeeded  in  securing  his 
interest. 

Claudia  knew  he  was  pleased  with  her. 
She  saw  it  in  his  eyes  as  she  approached, 
and  pausing  a few  feet  from  where  he 
stood,  extended  one  hand.  She  was  fur- 
ther convinced  as  she  felt  a slight  trem- 
bling of  his  hand  as  he  grasped  hers  and 
held  it  for  a moment.  It  was  her  busi- 
ness to  study  these  things,  for  she  had  been 
endowed  with  nature’s  greatest  gift  to 
woman — beauty.  And  from  that  day  when 
she  had  first  discovered  how  generous  na- 
ture had  been  to  her,  she  had  not  over- 
looked the  enormity  of  the  gift  as  an  asset. 
Naturally,  for  such  a woman,  life  is  little 
more  than  a series  of  romances  and  adven- 
tures, with  each  one  more  interesting  than 
the  last. 

And  so,  with  a faint  suggestion  of  a 
smile,  she  looked  up  at  Chapin  and  said : 
“I’m  sorry  I kept  you  waiting.”  Then, 
after  glancing  at  the  clock,  she  added:  “I 
hardly  realized  it  was  so  late.” 

But  Chapin  dismissed  any  attempt  at 
apology  as  he  raised  a protesting  hand  and 
remarked : 

“My  life  seems  to  have  suddenly  been 
divested  of  any  routine,  and  hours  mean 
very  little  to  me  at  present.” 

She  nodded  prettily  and  then  motioned 
him  to  sit  down  again,  after  which  she 
sank  down  on  the  divan  near  him  and 
leaned  back  among  the  silken  pillows.  Put- 
ting her  hands  behind  her  head,  she  stud- 
ied him  silently  for  a moment.  Chapin 
was  conscious  of  her  scrutiny  although  he 
pretended  to  be  toying  with  a book-end  as 
his  arm  rested  on  the  table.  Finally  he 
looked  at  her  and  said  : 

“You  didn’t  keep  the  appointment,  as 
we  had  arranged.” 

Claudia  kept  her  gaze  fixed  on  him  as 
she  shook  her  head  and  answered : 

“I  couldn’t  . . . After  serious  consid- 
eration, I made  other  plans.” 

He  nodded  thoughtfully  for  a moment, 
after  which  he  met  her  gaze  again.  “Do 
you  think  you  have  acted  wisely  in  coming 
here  ?” 

Claudia  nodded  and  smiled  faintly,  but 
preferred  to  let  him  continue.  She  had 
not  long  to  wait,  for  Chapin  leaned  for- 
ward and  with  considerable  sternness,  re- 
minded her  writh  graveness:  “You  are  run- 
ning a great  risk.  The  police  are  not 
going  to  close  this  case  immediately.  It’s 
merely  a question  of  hours  before  they 
learn  that  John  Morgan  was  murdered, 


September 

and  when  they  do,  all  of  us  will  be  in 
great  danger.” 

Her  countenance  took  on  a challenging 
look  as  she  frowned  a little  and  said : 

“Others  may  have  fears,  but  I have 
none.  I w^as  not  here  when  the  crime  was 
committed.  I was  aboard  The  Empress  of 
India,  at  sea.”  Then,  after  a slight  pause, 
she  stared  at  him  and  added:  “I  can  prove 
that,  Mr.  Chapin.” 

He  slowly  nodded.  She  spoke  the  truth. 
The  police  would  never  entertain  any  sus- 
picions of  her  being  directly  connected  with 
the  crime.  Of  this  much  he  was  certain. 
But  one  word  from  him  and  she  would 
have  to  do  considerable  explaining  to  both 
the  police  and  the  press,  and  the  explana- 
tion would  be  followed  by  a certain 
amount  of  embarrassment  and  undoubt- 
edly destroy  her  plans.  She  waited  for 
him  to  speak  again,  and  he  transferred  his 
gaze  from  the  Chinese  rug  to  her.  She 
was  lying  at  full  length  now ; her  legs 
crossed.  There  was  an  opening  in  her 
dress  on  one  side,  from  the  knee  down 
and  it  disclosed  a goodly  portion  of  one 
of  her  legs  encased  in  a black  chiffon  stock- 
ing, and  he  noticed  that  it  was  exceed- 
ingly well-formed.  He  also  noted  that 
her  feet  wrere  small,  almost  tiny,  and  that 
she  was  wearing  very  pretty  shoes  of  black 
patent  leather.  She  watched  him  as  he 
took  a cigarette  case  from  his  pocket  and 
shook  her  head  as  he  offered  her  one, 
after  which  he  took  one  himself  and  lighted 
it.  Inhaling  deeply  he  leaned  back  in  his 
chair  and  proceeded  to  study  her  for  a 
moment,  after  which  he  said ; 

“Let’s  stop  this  skirmishing.  . .Why  did 
you  come  here?” 

She  smiled,  and  then  with  a cute  little 
twist  of  her  head  she  answered  him,  say- 
ing; “You  musn’t  be  so  stupid.  . .Can’t 
you  guess?” 

Chapin  pondered.  She  was  devilishly 
fascinating.  “I  presume  you  believe  there 
is  a possibility  of  your  getting  that  $200,- 
000  insurance  money.” 

“You  are  clever,”  she  said,  grinning. 
“You  may  go  to  the  head  of  the  class.” 
But  this  was  no  time  for  joking,  and  he 
ignored  the  playful  remark  as  he  asked 
her  sternly.  “Do  you  still  insist  that  you 
are  Mrs.  John  Morgan?” 

She  nodded.  Then  she  suddenly  raised 
herself  to  a sitting  position,  and  placing 
her  pretty  feet  on  the  floor,  she  rested  her 
arms  on  her  knees,  and  looking  him  straight 
in  the  eyes,  said ; 

“What  did  you  do  with  the  $150,000 
which  was  in  this  room  the  night  John 
Morgan  returned?” 

This  question  surprised  him.  How  had 
she  learned  of  this  money?  He  was  posi- 
tive that  nobody,  except  Morgan  and  him- 
self, knew  of  its  existence.  He  was  still 
mystified  as  he  evaded  an  answer.  “Is  that 
why  you  have  sent  for  me?”  he  inquired. 

(Continued  on  Page  4-2) 


19  2 5 


®irector 


27 


THE  efficiency  slogan  of  all 
.veil-conducted  newspaper 
offices,  “Edit  it  in  Copy, 
not  in  Type”,  should  have  its 
counterpart  in  motion  picture 
studios:  “Do  Your  Editing  to 
the  Scenario  not  in  the  Cutting 
Room,”  acording  to  Reginald 
Barker. 

Mr.  Barker  maintains  that  just  as  wise 
newspaper  publishers  who  wish  to  hold 
down  expenses  placard  their  editorial  rooms 
with  notices  advising  department  heads  to 
trim  news  stories  to  the  proper  length 
and  phraseology  before  they  go  to  the  lino- 
type machines,  so  should  producers  urge 
their  directors  to  follow  the  same  general 
policy  in  film  production. 

This  idea  has  become  such  an  obsession 
with  Mr.  Barker  that  sometimes  less  pains- 
taking and  less  foresighted  persons  refer 
to  him  as  “The  story  bug”  because  he  in- 
sists on  having  the  scenario  perfected  to 
the  most  minute  detail  before  he  starts 
shooting. 

“With  the  typewriter  and  pencil,  it  is 
much  simpler  and  cheaper  to  edit  the 
script  than  to  perform  the  same  operation 
on  the  negative  with  the  cutting  room 
scissors,”  stated  Mr.  Barker.  “Just  as  a 


newspaper  wishes  to  save  needless  type  com- 
position, so  should  it  be  a hundred  times 
as  great  a saving  to  make  the  script  letter 
perfect  before  dozens  of  days  and  thous- 
ands of  dollars  have  been  spent  taking 
scenes  that  will  be  eliminated  afterwards. 

“While  perhaps  this  is  not  an  altogether 
new  thought,  having  your  guns  loaded  with 
the  sort  of  ammunition  that  will  enable 
you  to  score  a hit  with  the  exhibitor  and 
his  public  seems  to  me  like  worthwhile 
preparedness,  and  it  has  become  a hobby 
of  mine.  I have  had  many  an  argument 
with  producers  who  were  anxious  to  get 
started  shooting  with  a poorly  constructed 
script,  but  when  I won  the  point  I think, 
in  most  instances,  my  employers  agreed 
that  the  slight  delay  in  perfecting  the 
scenario  had  been  well  worth  while. 

“Much  of  unnecessary  expense  is  entailed 
by  delays  in  production  through  imperfect 


Edit  the 

Copy 
not  the 
Type 

An  Interview  with 
Reginald  Barker 


the  written  production  with  the  thought 
that  it  will  be  remedied  before  the  scene  is 
scripts.  Sometimes  it  is  an  inncomplete 
portion  that  is  passed  over  in  reviewing 
reached,  and  sometimes  it  is  simple  lack 
of  clarity  in  expression.  Whatever  the 
ailment  it  always  means  delay  and  con- 
sequent increased  expenses. 

“Nowhere  else  is  time  such  a matter  of 
moment  as  in  a modern  metropolitan  news- 
paper plant  and  publishers  constantly  are 
watching  operations  to  cut  down  unneces- 
sary corrections  that  may  delay  editions. 
In  these  days  of  rapid  methods  of  pro- 
duction calling  for  day  and  night  opera- 
tions in  the  studios,  anything  that  will 
eliminate  useless  delay  or  shorten  operations 
is  worthy  of  serious  consideration. 

“In  my  own  experience  I have  found 
that  insisting  on  perfected  manuscripts, 
even  if  it  is  necessary  to  call  in  the  screen 
writers  to  iron  out  the  rough  spots,  is 
conducive  to  eliminating  a great  deal  of 
confusion  with  attendant  exasperation  on 
the  part  of  players  and  studio  officials  on 
the  set. 

“In  earlier  days  in  the  industry,  a sce- 
nario was  little  more  than  a sketchy  out- 
line of  the  plot,  and  the  director  was  ex- 
pected to  use  his  own  judgment  in  follow- 


28 


ing  the  screen  writer’s  leads  in  filming  the 
picture. 

“But  modern  methods  of  production  de- 
mand that  the  director  use  his  utmost 
efforts  in  producing  the  effects  required 
in  the  picture  and  time  limitations  alone 
will  will  not  permit  deviation  from  the 


YNTHIA,  passing  tbe  Ogre’s  Castle 
in  her  car  observed  it  to  be  tenanted. 
Young  Warrington,  coming  down 
the  driveway  was  about  to  pass  her  with 
no  sign  of  greeting  when  she  introduced 
herself  in  a neighborly  way  but  he  barely 
acknowledged  her  courtesy  and  passed  on 
with  a curt  word  in  return. 

Cynthia  rode  home  with  flaming  cheeks 
and  mentally  promised  herself  that  she 
would  leave  this  young  Ogre,  as  she  called 
him — strictly  alone. 

Then  Stanley  bought  Cal  Dobbin’s 
newspaper — paid  off  the  mortgage  held  by 
Addison  Walsh  and  started  in  to  write 
vitriolic  articles  about  Walsh  and  his  vari- 
ous money-making  schemes. 

Then  came  Cynthia’s  birthday  fete — 
the  performance  of  a Greek  tragedy  on  the 
lawn  at  night — she  to  portray  the  role  of 
a slave  girl.  Cynthia  secretly  sent  Stan- 
ley an  invitation,  knowing  he  would  not 
accept,  but  like  the  angler  for  trout — she 
was  willing  to  try  an  enticing  bait. 

^ The  performance  was  a huge  success  and 
Cynthia  played  her  part  well.  To  thun- 
ders of  applause,  she  hastened  towards  the 
house  to  change  her  costume  when  she 
bumped  into  none  other  than  the  young 
Ogre,  himself.  In  his  knickerbockers,  he 
had  been  a secret  observer  from  behind  the 
hedge.  In  much  embarrassment,  he  tried 
to  explain  his  presence  there  as  searching 
for  his  dog  which  had  wandered  away. 
Then  Hector’s  bark  was  heard  as  he  saluted 
the  moon,  securely  chained  to  his  kennel. 
With  a well-acted  sigh  of  relief  to  know 
his  dog  had  returned  home — he  left  her, 
glad  to  get  away.  But  he  knew — that  she 
knew — he  was  a fraud  and  had  come  there 
to  see  her  and  the  sound  of  her  laughter 
wafted  towards  him  as  he  reached  the 
roadway — and  he  mentally  kicked  himself 
for  being  a silly  fool — but  the  memory  of 
a slave  girl,  in  flimsy  costume,  held  his 
arms  for  a brief  second  as  they  met  so 
suddenly  near  the  hedge  was  not  an  un- 
pleasant thing  to  think  about. 

Now  go  on  with  the  story. 


THE  fate  of  the  house  of  Stockton 
rested  in  Minerva’s  hands  and  she 
knew  it.  Her  next  move  would  be 
to  settle  matters  with  Cynthia.  A letter 
from  Walsh  brought  her  to  this  decision. 

The  letter  enclosed  a cheque  covering 
the  bills  for  the  birthday  fete.  It  footed 
up  to  a tidy  sum. 

My  contribution  to  Cynthia’s  birthday, 
with  sincere  wishes  for  her  future  happiness 


Director 

prescribed  order  determined  before  shoot- 
ing is  started,  were  the  director  inclined 
so  to  do. 

“The  very  fact  that  the  majority  of 
screen  writers  graduated  from  the  news- 
paper school  has  contributed  greatly  to  the 


THE 

NIGHT 

BRIDE 

A Novel 

By  Frederic  Chapin 

( Continued  from  the  July  issue) 


— was  all  it  said.  No  signature,  except 
on  the  cheque. 

Could  any  woman  fail  to  respond  to 
such  an  appeal? 

Cynthia  was  just  leaving  for  the  Coun- 
try Club  when  her  mother  summoned  her 
into  the  library.  Observing  Minerva  close 
the  doors  carefully  she  smiled.  “Some 
morsel  of  gossip,”  she  thought.  But  her 
mother  had  other  matters  on  her  mind. 

Silently  she  handed  the  letter  and  cheque 
to  her  daughter.  Cynthia  read  it,  noted 
the  amount  of  the  cheque  and  looked  up 
quickly;  but  something  in  her  mother’s 
expression  stilled  the  words  of  protest  hov- 
ering on  her  lips. 

“You  will  admit,  my  dear,”  Minerva 
said,  solemnly,  almost  reverently,  “that  Ad- 
dison Walsh  is  a man  among  men.” 

“Whv — ves,  mother,”  agreed  Cynthia. 
“He  is  indeed — but  we  can’t  accept  this 
money  from  him.  Father  will  pay  these 
bills.  If  he  had  only  sent  a box  of  roses — ” 
Minerva  almost  sniffed  aloud.  Roses, 
instead  of  money,  and  at  a time  like  this. 

“When  I arranged  for  your  birthday 
affair,”  she  explained,  “I  knew  it  would  be 
costly.  But  it  was  too  late  for  me  to 
abandon  my  plans — even  after  I had 
learned  that  your  father’s  business  affairs 
were  in  a precarious  condition.” 

“You  mean ?” 

“Just  this.  Your  father  today — is  prac- 
tically bankrupt.” 

Cynthia’s  face  blanched. 

“He  has  had  to  borrow  huge  sums  to  tide 
over  a period  of  depression,”  her  mother 
continued,  “Addison  Walsh  came  to  his 
rescue — freely  and  generously.  He  plans  a 
reorganization  that  will  probably  save  us 
from  ruin  and  disgrace.” 

The  color  returned  to  Cynthia’s  cheeks. 


September 

advances  made  in  the  picture  industry  in 
efficiency  of  operations,  for  nowhere  else 
can  be  learned  so  effectively  the  value  of 
succinctness  and  clarity  of  expression,  and 
it  is  my  belief  that  their  percepts  have  an 
extensive  application  to  production  activi- 
ties in  motion  pictures.” 


“He  is  a wonderful  man,”  she  breathed, 
in  genuine  relief.  “Then  we  have  nothing 
to  worry  over.” 

Minerva  shook  her  head  impatiently. 

“I  am  glad  you  appreciate  him,”  she  said. 
“As  you  are  no  doubt  aware,  he  has  been 
a real  friend  to  us  for  some  time.  Can 
you  imagine  any  particular  reason  why  he 
should  take  such  an  interest  in  us?” 

Cynthia  glanced  away  in  doubt. 

“He  likes  us,  I suppose,”  she  said,  finally. 

“Possibly,”  her  mother  observed,  dryly. 
“But  Addison’s  motive  was  something 
other  than  that.”  She  hesitated,  then  took 
the  plunge.  “He  loves  you,  my  dear  child 
— he  desires  to  marry  you.” 

To  her  great  surprise  her  daughter  took 
the  information  casually. 

“I  was  afraid  of  that,”  said  Cynthia. 
“Of  course,  I admire  and  respect  him.  He 
is  a friend  worth  having,  but  I’m  sorry 
he  has  fallen  in  love  with  me.  Men  of 
his  age  take  such  things  seriously.” 

Minerva  gave  her  daughter  a queerish 
look.  She  began  to  realize  she  had  reached 
the  first  barrier  in  her  coup  de  main. 

“Addison  takes  it  so  seriously,”  she  re- 
iterated warningly,  “That  in  the  event  of 
your  refusal  to  marry  him,  he  might  be 
tempted  to  act  merely  as  your  father’s 
creditor,  instead  of  a life  long  friend. 

Cynthia  looked  up  sharply. 

“Mother,”  she  cried.  “You  don’t  mean 
— that  he — makes  me — a condition?” 

She  could  never  believe  any  man  would 
be  so  base. 

“He  has  made  no  condition  by  word  of 
mouth,”  her  mother  said.  “But  he  has  im- 
plied them.  Your  father,  poor,  dear  soul 
— is  on  the  verge  of  a nervous  breakdown. 
I have  noticed  it  of  late.  We  have  been 
selfish  to  let  him  worry  and  slave  for  us, 
without  trying  to  help  him  in  some  way. 
With  Addison  our  friend,  the  reorganiza- 
tion will  take  place;  then  your  father  can 
retire  and  get  a well-earned  rest.  If  Ad- 
dison refuses  to  aid  us,  I firmly  believe  the 
loss  of  your  father’s  business  will  kill  him.” 

Cynthia’s  heart  contracted. 

“But,  mother,”  she  remonstrated.  “I 
couldn’t  think  of  marrying  him,  I don’t 
love  him.” 

She  stood  up  and  crossed  the  room,  as 
if  to  escape  from  such  an  odious  thought. 

Minerva  knew  better  than  to  carry  the 
fight  to  this  strong-minded  daughter  of 
hers.  She  must  win  by  sympathy. 

She  assumed  an  abject,  broken  spirited 
attitude  that  touched  Cynthia  deeply.  She 
returned  and  confronted  her  mother. 

“I  don’t  believe,”  she  said  defiantly,  as  if 
to  still  her  own  doubts,  “That  Addison 


1925 


29 


©irector 


would  make  of  his  friendship  for  you  and 
father,  a matter  of  barter  and  sale  for  me. 
But  we  can  easily  find  out.” 

She  picked  up  the  telephone,  called 
Walsh’s  number,  talked  with  him  a mo- 
ment and  hung  up  the  receiver. 

“He’ll  be  here  in  ten  minutes,”  she  said, 
and  went  to  the  window  to  wait. 

Minerva’s  heart  was  thumping  with  fear 
— fear  that  Walsh  would  openly  declare 
himself — fear  that  Cynthia  would  prove 
untractable. 

A request  from  Cynthia  was  a command 
to  Walsh. 

He  breezed  in  shortly  with  a smile  of 
greeting,  that  faded  instantly  as  he  saw 
their  faces.  Instinctively  he  was  warned — 
and  forewarned  was  forearmed. 

In  a sympathetic  manner,  he  inquired 
just  how  he  could  be  of  service. 

Minerva  silently  waived  him  to  a chair. 

With  a directness  of  purpose,  Cynthia 
handed  him  his  checque.  He  took  it 
gingerly,  as  if  it  were  something  to  which 
he  had  no  right.  He  looked  up  ques- 
tionly. 

“It  was  most  generous  of  you  Addison,” 
she  said.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had 
addressed  him  by  his  first  name,  and  his 
heart  stirred  within  him.  “I’m  sorry,”  she 
continued,  “we  can’t  accept.  I have  just 
learned  how  matters  stand  between  you  and 
father.  Mother  has  also  told  me — of  your 
desire — to — marry  me.  I respect  and  ad- 
mire you  in  many  ways — but  I don’t  love 
you.  I sent  for  you — to  ask — if  all  you 
have  done  for  us,  and  all  you  plan  to  do 
regarding  father’s  financial  affairs,  is  con- 
ditional upon  my  acceptance  of  your — 
proposal.  I presume  we  may  call  it  that.” 

Walsh  was  on  his  feet  with  a gesture  of 
protest. 

“Cynthia,”  he  cried  reproachfully.  “How 
could  you  imagine  such  a thing?”  He  was 
a clever  actor.  “I  admit  I do  love  you, 
and  I did  take  your  mother  into  my  con- 
fidence. She  was  kind  enough  to  hope 
that  my  love  might  be  reciprocated.  But 
what  I have  done,  and  may  do  for  you  or 
your  father,  has  no  bearing  on  this  subject, 
whatsoever.  I can’t  help  loving  you — 
who  could? — but  I haven’t  spoken  of  it  to 
you,  and  I never  will,  until  you  give  me 
that  right.” 

He  turned  and  walked  away  with  the 
manner  of  one  hurt.  It  was  artistry  in 
the  superlative  degree.  Minerva’s  expres- 
sion was  of  unconcealed  surprise.  She  did 
not  understand  the  sudden  change  of 
technique  but  a quick  glance  from  him 
warned  her  to  say  nothing,  and  let  matters 
take  their  course.  She  understood. 

Said  Cynthia  to  her  mother  triumphantly, 
“I  told  you  so.”  To  Walsh  she  said 
cordially  as  she  gave  him  he  hand, 

“Addison,  I am  grateful.”  Her  voice 
was  tremulous.  “I  don’t  believe  I can  find 
the  right  words  to  express  myself.” 

“Don’t  try,”  he  said  tenderly — and  was 
gone. 

In  her  hand  reposed  the  folded  checque. 


“Not  one  false  move  or  word,”  thought 
Walsh  in  his  car. 

“What  a friend,”  sighed  Minerva. 

“Cheer  up,  mumsey,”  Cynthia  cried 
joyously.  “Everything  will  come  out  all 
right.  And  if  he  keeps  on  being  so  kind 
— who  knows?” 

She  glanced  down  at  the  slip  of  paper 
in  her  hand.  Those  bills  would  have  to 
be  paid  in  some  other  way.  Going  to  the 
writing  desk,  she  addressed  an  envelope, 
placed  the  checque  inside,  moistened  the 
gum  with  her  pretty,  red  tongue,  and 
dropped  it  into  the  basket  for  outgoing 
mail. 

Minerva’s  heart  sank  as  she  observed 
this,  but  she  dared  make  no  protest. 

The  telephone  rang — imperiously — omi- 
nously. Cynthia  answered  it,  the  message 
sending  the  blood  from  her  cheeks.  Slowly 
she  placed  the  instrument  on  the  table. 

“Father  is  ill,”  she  told  her  mother  in  a 
frightened  manner.  “They  are  bringing 
him  home.  We  must  get  the  doctor  here, 
at  once.” 

She  called  a number,  while  Minerva 
stood  by,  irresolute  and  helpless. 

During  the  weeks  it  took  John  Stockton 
to  recover  his  health — he  had  had  a slight 
stroke — Addison  Walsh  stepped  into  the 
breach,  took  over  the  factories  and  injected 
new  life  into  the  business.  His  nightly 
reports  of  progress,  his  optimistic  discus- 
sions of  the  reorganization  that  was  taking 
place,  his  tender  solicitude  for  Cynthia’s 
father,  his  cheerfulness  and  kindness;  placed 
him  firmly  within  the  sacred  portals  of  the 
Stockton  menage,  as  one  of  the  family. 

Slowly,  but  surely — and  Minerva  saw 
it  with  secret  joy,  Addison  Walsh  was 
gradually  weaving  his  way  into  Cynthia’s 
heart. 

ELL — well — well,”  ejaculated 
\\  Cal  Dobbins  one  fine  day,  as 
Warrington,  Jr.,  entered  the 
office  of  his  newspaper.  “The  buzzard  has 
swooped  down  and  captured  the  dove.” 

He  handed  him  a copy  of  the  paper,  and 
pointed  to  a notice  of  Cynthia’s  engage- 
ment. Stanley  glanced  at  it  casually  and 
tossed  it  aside.  On  his  desk  was  an  article 
that  held  his  attention.  It  dealt  with  a 
new  issue  of  municipal  bonds.  Walsh  had 
taken  the  entire  lot,  and  the  county  had 
been  mulcted  out  of  a large  sum  of  money. 
The  whole  deal  smacked  of  skullduggery 
and  Stanley  called  a spade,  a spade. 

He  tossed  it  over  for  Cal  to  read.  At 
the  closing  line,  that  worthy  individual’s 
mouth  puckered  in  a long,  drawn  whistle. 

“To  arms,”  he  shouted  in  mock  dra- 
matics. “Soon  the  cohorts  of  our  foe 
will  sweep  down  upon  us.  “Fiat  justicia, 
ruat  caelum.” 

“Look  out  for  that  blue-nosed  revolver,” 
warned  Bill,  the  practical,  looking  up  from 
his  job  of  indicting  some  snappy  headlines. 

“Say,”  he  called  suspiciously.  “What  was 
that,  Latin?  I don’t  believe  you  fellows 


know  half  the  time  what  all  that  jibberish 
means.” 

Cal  took  a longshoreman’s  chew  of  Navy 
Plug  and  turned  indignantly. 

“For  your  information,  son,”  he  shot 
at  him,  “the  quotation  recently  delivered, 
with  all  the  sang-froid  of  a Brutus,  boiled 
down  to  words  of  few  syllables,  means: 
“Let  justice  be  done,  though  the  heavens 
fall.” 

“Well — something’s  going  to  fall  before 
long,”  observed,  Bill  significantly,  “and 
me  thinks  it  will  be  little  Addy,  dropping 
in  and  upon  us.” 

Stanley  chucked. 

“It’s  funny  how  I hate  that  man,”  he 
said.  “But  he  seems  to  be  able  to  pick 
and  choose  his  wives.” 

“Yeah,”  said  Bill  without  looking  up. 
“With  the  Stockton  ship  sinking,  and 
Walsh  the  only  life-boat  in  sight,  what’s 
a poor  girl  going  to  do?” 

Stanley  polished  his  goggles. 

“Women  are  all  alike,”  said  that  young 
synic  bitterly.  “They’re  flighty,  silly  and 
mercenary.  To  think  of  a beautiful  girl 
like  Miss  Stockton,  selling  herself  to  an 
old  galliwampus  like  Walsh,  it’s  disgust- 
ing. I hate  ’em — all  of  ’em — everyone 
of  ’em.” 

Cal  and  Bill  looked  at  each  other  signi- 
ficantly. Of  late  they  had  been  able  to  get 
the  lowdown  on  their  boss.  Evidently  he 
had  been  crossed  in  love.  Well,  who 
hadn’t? 

Stanley  grunted.  He  was  unconsciously 
visioning  Cynthia  in  Walsh’s  arms,  and  he 
almost  shuddered.  Touching  a match  to 
his  pipe,  he  plunged  into  the  work  before 
him. 

On  Cynthia’s  finger  glittered  a white 
diamond  that  fairly  scintillated  sparks  of 
fire.  It  was  just  a week  since  she  had 
shyly  lowered  her  head  and  allowed  Ad- 
dison Walsh  to  kiss  her — on  the  cheek. 

Walsh  knew  that  he  must  not  be  too 
precipitate,  even  though  the  prize  was  al- 
most within  his  grasp.  He  was  artful  in 
love,  as  in  finance,  and  he  was  willing  to 
climb  the  ladder  of  romance  step  by  step. 

Minerva  and  her  husband  were  at  a 
neighboring  mountain  resort,  which  left 
Cynthia  on  Walsh’s  hands.  He  made  the 
most  of  such  a glorious  opportunity. 
Flowers,  gifts,  motor  rides,  and  theater 
parties  kept  her  in  a whirl  of  excitement. 
She  was  gratefully  passive ; glad  to  feel 
that  her  mother  was  happy,  and  her  father’s 
health  improving.  A placid  sun  of  con- 
tentment shone  down  upon  her. 

And  all  because  of  the  magic  touch  of 
this  paragon  of  men. 

The  Ogre’s  castle  had  been  swept  from 
her  memory.  As  for  Stanley  Warrington, 
he  had  been  tossed  into  the  discard  of  her 
thoughts. 

Walsh  was  cracking  his  egg  at  the  break- 
fast table,  when  Delia,  his  housekeeper, 
whose  visage  reflected  the  souring  process 
(Continued,  on  Page  51) 


30 


©irector 


September 


WHY  A SCENARIO? 

By  Bradley  King 


^LL  of  us  have  at  one  time  or  another 
r\  been  classified  as  amateurs.  In  all 
* "*■  walks  of  life  there  must  be  a be- 
ginning point  and  here  unfortunately,  is 
where  so  many  aspirants  fail.  They  do 
not  want  to  begin ; but  seek  to  accomplish 
without  even  establishing  a fundamental 
foundation. 

Unlike  many  other  professions,  photo- 
play writing  does  not  offer  an  opportunity 
to  “apprentice”  ones  self  at  the  start,  in 
the  general  accepted  meaning  of  this  term. 
Yet,  screen  authorship  is  the  one  vocation 
where  such  a privilege  is  needed  most  and 
would  be  greatly  worthwhile. 

There  is,  however,  the  opportunity  for 
the  new  writer  to  gain  an  invaluable  train- 
ing from  two  other  scources.  One  is  news- 
paper work.  Here  the  writer  gets  under 
.the  outer  surface  of  life  and  is  constantly 
called  upon  to  handle  those  situations 
which  form  the  nucleus  of  photoplay  plots. 
The  news  writer  also  receives  editorial 
supervision  as  well  as  drastic  training  in 
the  art  of  “boiling  down.”  This  ability 
to  condense  will  prove  invaluable.  The 
other  field  I have  reference  to  is  that  of 
short-story  writing.  This  furnishes  an  ex- 
cellent opportunity  for  the  photoplay  no- 
vice, I believe,  for  there  are  many  points 
of  similarity  between  the  short-story  and 
the  motion  picture  plot.  The  peculiar 
construction  of  the  short-story  parallels  in 
many  ways  that  of  the  motion  picture,  for 
while  the  actual  method  of  expression  is 
greatly  different  the  fundamentals  of  the 
two  are  very  similar.  For  instance,  in  the 
short  story  the  writer  learns  the  value  of 
such  things  as  comedy  relief,  of  contrasting 
light  and  shade,  of  building  to  a crisis  and 
leaving  it  before  it  drops,  as  he  is  limited 
usually  to  words  and  many  similar  tricks 
of  drama  which  are  used  by  scenario  writers 
as  well.  (I  do  not  speak  of  the  classical 
short  story  but  refer  more  to  the  magazine 
fiction  of  today.) 

But  to  the  author  who  adopts  this  method 
of  beginning,  there  is  a word  of  warning. 
Short-story  writers  must  of  necessity  think 
in  words  and  phrases,  whereas  the  writer 
of  scenarios  thinks  in  pictures.  If  the 
author  will  endeavor  to  accompany  every 
written  paragraph  of  action  in  his  short 
story  with  a brief  imaginative  picturization 
of  the  situation  involved  he  will  find  him- 
self, after  a while,  unconciously  getting  into 
the  habit  of  thinking  photographically. 
Thus  when  the  time  comes  for  the  change 
from  short-stories  to  scenarios  he  has  all 
ready  prepared  his  mind  to  function  ac- 
cordingly. 

I recall  when  I first  started  writing  for 
the  screen  that  my  first  instruction  was: 
“Don’t  forget  to  think  in  pictures”,  And 


think  in  pictures  I did,  though  I had  been 
naturally  schooled  to  think  in  words  as  a 
short-story  writer.  But  that  little  thought 
was  a great  help  to  me,  for  visual  inter- 
pretation of  any  situation  is  far  more  com- 
pelling to  me  than  any  other  form.  It  is 
exactly  the  difference  between  seeing  a 
horrible  accident  and  hearing  about  it  from 
another.  The  actual  sight  may  nauseate 
you  or  leave  a life-long  imprint  on  your 
memory,  whereas  hearing  it  from  some- 
one else,  you  will  soon  forget  all  about  it 
and  experience  no  sense  of  repulsion. 

Since  I have  been  writing,  however,  I 
have  elaborated  that  thought  to  this: 
“Think  in  a series  of  pictures."  That  is,  do 
not  plan  the  particular  scene  which  is  be- 
ing written  by  visualizing  it  alone;  but  go 
back  and  retrace  what  you  have  written 
previously,  connecting  the  scene  under  con- 
sideration with  all  its  predecessors  as  well 
as  those  which  will  follow.  I have  found 
this  a great  help  as  well  as  a labor  saving 
device  in  that  it  decreases  many  corrections 
later  on  and  results  in  a script  which 
“hangs  together”  in  closer  dramatic  se- 
quence. 

When  I say  “Think  in  Pictures”,  I mean 
of  course,  Think  action.  The  art  and 
technical  directors  will  worry  about  the 
details  of  setting,  etc.,  and  the  scenario 
writer  need  not  worry  about  these  matters 
except  to  describe  them  in  a general  way. 
It  helps  the  director,  naturally,  if  he  can 
get  the  visualization  of  the  sets  as  mentally 
pictured  by  the  author,  and  often  gives  him 
an  idea  which  he  can  inject  into  the  script, 
such  as  novel  lighting  effects  and  even 
unusual  action.  Given  a continuity  that 
is  replete  with  good  action  however,  and 
the  setting  will  be  mostly  a matter  of 
choice. 

Thinking  in  a series  of  pictures  means 
much  more  than  just  mentally  reviewing 
the  scenes  as  written  and  those  which  are 
to  follow.  To  explain  further.  By  a 
series  of  pictures  I refer  to  complete 
thoughts — sequences.  While  it  is  far  more 
tedious  and  difficult  a task  to  match  a 
sequence  of  scenes,  one  with  the  other  in 
perfect  dramatic  continuity,  it  has  proven 
far  more  successful  than  the  old-fashioned 
method  of  writing  a number  of  discon- 
nected scenes  and  then  matching  them  to- 
gether,— or  leaving  it  entirely  to  the  di- 
rector or  film  cutter  to  worry  about.  While 
it  is  utterly  impossible  and  foolish  to  expect 
a continuity  to  be  scene  perfect,  so  that  it 
can  be  photographed  exactly  as  written, 
this  should  be  the  goal  for  which  the  sce- 
narist strives.  Writers  are  becoming 
more  and  more  adept  in  the  art  of  “cut- 
ting” their  story  as  they  write.  But  for 
the  amateur  who  has  had  no  actual  studio 


experience,  this  is  practically  impossible, 
unless  he  will  spend  much  time  reviewing 
films  and  then  learning  a system  of  mental 
editing.  This  however,  is  at  best  a very 
difficult  and  unsatisfactory  procedure  and 
one  which  requires  a very  good  natural 
sense  of  continuity  as  photographed,  as  well 
as  a great  deal  of  time  and  patience. 

To  be  able  to  dovetail  your  scenes  until 
they  are  as  near  perfect  production  form  as 
possible  for  the  director,  is  a qualification 
every  novice  should  strive  to  attain.  Pro- 
ducers, too,  are  realizing  the  advantages 
of  this  method  of  script  writing  and  are 
demanding  it,  wherever  possible,  from 
their  writers. 

OF  course,  the  writer  in  Hollywood 
or  New  York  will  find  it  easy  to 
confer  with  the  director  who  will 
produce  his  story,  after  acceptance.  This 
is  a method  I have  religiously  followed 
from  the  very  first  draft  of  my  first  sce- 
nario. After  completing  a rough  “idea 
outline”  of  scenes  I always  go  to  the  di- 
rector and  get  his  viewpoints  and  intended 
treatment  of  the  story.  My  first  draft  is 
then  revised  accordingly,  for  what  is  the 
-use  of  writing  a script  which  is  not  in 
harmony  with  the  director’s  ideas?  Two 
heads  are  always  better  than  one  and  the 
sooner  writers  realize  this  and  get  their 
“swell-heads”  healed,  the  better  off  the 
whole  industry  is  going  to  be.  The  direc- 
tor is  the  one  who  will  eventually  develop 
the  story  for  the  screen,  and  it  behooves 
the  script  writer  to  consider  his  angles  as 
being  mighty  important,  before  completing 
the  scenario. 

As  for  the  market  for  original  stories. 
This  talk  about  there  being  no  market — 
or  there  being  an  unusually  good  market — 
is  simply  material  for  some  poor  press  agent 
who  hasn’t  the  gumption  to  think  up  some- 
thing more  original,  and  desires  to  hand 
his  boss  the  necessary  press  clippings  re- 
gardless of  their  contents.  There  will  al- 
ways be  a good  demand  for  usable  original 
scenarios.  Mr.  Producer  realizes  fully 
well  the  value  of  an  original  story  written 
expressly  for  the  screen,  in  comparison  with 
the  adapted  novel  or  play.  He  is  only 
too  glad  to  get  them.  I spent  over  two 
months  trying  to  get  an  assignment  to  do 
an  adaptation  and  for  that  length  of  time 
was  consistently  bombarded  with  assign- 
ments to  write  original  stories  round  box- 
office  titles.  Which  only  goes  to  prove 
that  the  trouble  is  not  with  the  demand 
for  originals,  but  with  the  supply. 

THE  day  has  arrived  when  the  director 
is  more  than  just  a man  with  a 
megaphone,  wildly  shouting  directions 
to  actors.  This  new  type  of  artisan  who 


1925 


31 


W.  MOTION  »KTMU 

director 


has  invaded  the  industry  is  a thinker.  He 
is  a capable  judge  of  story  values  as  well 
as  dramatic  situations,  and  usually  he  is  a 
specialist  in  treatment.  This  after  all  is 
the  most  important  factor  in  the  produc- 
tion of  photoplays,  because  “there  is  noth- 
ing new  under  the  sun”  in  reference  to 
original  plots, — except  originality  of  treat- 
ment. Get  a director’s  viewpoint  on  your 
story  but  try  and  get  a new  treatment  of 
your  story  yourself  and  don’t  leave  all  the 
.thinking  up  to  the  man  who  wields  the 
megaphone  or  doesn’t  according  to  his  press 
agents’  particular  fancy. 

Every  story  is  written  with  a certain 
effect  in  mind.  First  decide  what  effect 
you  want  to  drive  home  and  then  keep- 
ing this  point  in  mind,  make  every  scene, 
every  touch,  build  up  and  emphasize  this 
particular  effect.  You  wouldn’t  hit  a 
bull’s  eye  with  your  eyes  closed,  you’d  look 
where  you’re  aiming.  Scenario  writing  is 
to  a great  extent,  mental  marksmanship,  so 
follow  this  same  principle  in  your  screen 
work.  Know  what  you’re  aiming  at  and 
then  don’t  wobble.  Remember  always 
that  you  are  writing  your  scenario  for  the 
director.  The  technical  director,  title  edi- 
tor, members  of  the  cast,  etc.,  though  they 
are  all  supplied  with  copies  of  your  script, 
and,  no  doubt,  find  good  use  for  it,  could 
do  without  it,  if  the  director  has  his  copy 
and  it  was  written  for  him  exclusively. 
But  to  the  director  it  is  a chart.  He  must 
have  it,  whether  he  uses  it  merely  to  check 
his  progress  or  as  it  was  intended  to  be 


used.  The  old  method  of  putting  scenarios 
to  one  side  and  making  the  story  over  in 
his  own  way  has  gone  for  the  director. 
Producers  cannot  see  paying  $10,000  for 
a continuity  only  to  have  the  director  use 
it  for  memorandum.  The  continuity  to- 
day is  paid  for  and  well  worth  the  price, 
and  Mr.  Producer  sees  that  the  director 
thinks  so  too.  The  present  day  director 
knows  the  story  by  heart  and  follows  the 
script  because  it  is  written  for  him.  It 
may  flatter  the  director  to  think  this  but 
he  has  sense  enough  not  to  forget  that  a 
continuity  today  is  a technical  work,  done 
by  a skilled  artisan,  and  worthy  of  every 
consideration.  It  is  like  the  mile-posts 
to  the  traveler  or  the  compass  and  charts 
to  a navigator — and  as  necessary. 

And,  remember  that  scenario  writers 
are  not  born,  they  are  made.  And  they 
aren’t  made  overnight  either!  Just  keep  in 
mind  that  there  are  writers  who  have  spent 
years  in  training  their  minds  for  this  type 
of  work.  So,  don’t  be  discouraged  or  im- 
patient if  your  first  or  your  twentieth 
manuscript  does  not  immediately  find  a 
market.  It  is  probable  that  it  won’t.  Per- 
haps it  may  but  you  will  be  fortunate  in- 
deed in  marketing  your  early  efforts  so 
promptly.  But  keep  at  it  and  study — 
study — study ! Five  years  of  anyone’s  life 
preparing  for  scenario  writing  is  none  too 
much  and  well  worth  the  effort  if  one  suc- 
ceeds. Where  else  can  a man  or  woman 
receive  a remuneration  far  in  excess  of  the 


President’s  after  only  five  years  of  study, 
that  he  can  in  this  profession?  Think  it 
over.  Think  of  your  doctor  and  lawyer 
and  dentist.  And  then  just  for  fun,  ask 
them  how  long  they’ve  been  establishing 
themselves ! 

There  are  a thousand  and  one  reasons 
why  producers  keep  printing  supplies  of  re- 
jection slips.  Stories  are  not  the  easiest 
things  to  select.  The  producer’s  rejection 
slip  may  in  no  way  be  a reflection  upon 
the  merits  of  your  story,  on  the  other 
hand  it  may. 

You  can  best  answer  this  question.  Re- 
jection may  result  from  an  internal  studio 
condition.  For  instance,  while  your  story 
is  very  fine  from  a dramatic  viewpoint,  it 
may  have  nothing  within  reach  of  the 
particular  producer  to  whom  it  is  sub- 
mitted. It  may  call  for  a budget  of  ex- 
penditure far  in  excess  of  his  plans,  it  may 
be  that  his  contract  players  are  not  suited 
to  the  story,  or  a hundred  and  one  similar 
reasons,  none  of  which  reflect  upon  the 
ability  of  the  writer  or  the  quality  of  his 
story. 

Do  not  make  the  mistake  of  treating 
your  work  too  lightly.  Scenario  writing 
is  not  suitable  as  a sideline.  Remember 
that  it  is  a business  as  well  as  anything 
else.  Always  strive  to  have  your  manu- 
script appear  business  like  and  neat. 

And  above  all  else,  don’t  forget  that  lit- 
tle thought:  “Think  in  a Series  of  pic- 
tures !” 


As  a change  off  from  directing  plays  the  directors  sometimes  do  some  playing  themselves,  as  witness  this 
flashlight  taken  during  the  enactment  of  John  Ford’s  soiree,  “A  Jubilee  of  the  Plains,”  staged  at  the 
clubhouse  of  the  Motion  Picture  Directors’  Association.  Being  himself  a past  master  in  the  direction  of 
Western  productions,  John  Ford  introduced  some  Western  atmosphere  reminiscent  of  “The  Iron  Horse” 
and  suggestive  of  his  new  picture,  “Three  Bad  Men,”  which  he  is  now  directing  on  location  at  Jackson 
Hole,  Wyoming,  which  accounts  for  the  presence  of  the  husky  looking  pioneers  and  the  “friendly  In- 
dian.” John  Ford,  by  the  way,  is  the  gentleman  with  the  five-gallon  hat  at  the  right  of  the  Indian,  while 
to  the  left  crouches  Bill  Beaudine,  president  of  the  M.P.D.A.  Photo  by  Milligan,  direction  by  Ham  Beall. 


32 


©irector 


September 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE 


Locale — Hollywood,  California. 

Time — The  Present. 

^ The  Scene — The  Clubhouse  of 
The  Motion  Picture  Directors  Associ- 
ation. 

CAST 

Human  Beings — 

The  Members. 

The  Actor. 

The  Independent  Producer. 

The  Cutter. 

His  Body  Guard. 

Knowledge. 

Scarehead. 

Scene — The  Lounging  Room  of  The 
Motion  Picture  Directors  Association. 
It  is  a large  and  comfortable  room,  with 
numerous  easy  chairs  and  lounges.  In  the 
corner  is  a round  table  at  which  five  of 
the  Directors  are  playing  a game  of  Hearts. 
At  one  end  of  the  room  a large  wfindow 
looks  out  upon  the  Avenue.  On  the  walls 
of  the  room  are  framed  “mottoes.”  Prom- 
inently displayed  is  “The  Brotherhood  of 
Man,”  “Fraternity  Above  All,”  “Let 
There  Be  Light.” 

The  room  is  comfortably  crowded  with 
members  of  the  Association.  As  the  cur- 
tain rises  they  are  singing  the  Club  Song: 

I’m  a Member  of  The  M.  P.  D.  A. 
And  I know  that  you’ll  believe  me  when 
I say 

That  my  method  of  direction 
Is  the  acme  of  perfection; 

I’m  an  Artist  with  a Capital  “A.” 

I’m  a Member  of  The  M.  P.  D.  A., 
And  I love  to  show  my  power  in  every 
way. 

When  the  Star  gets  temperamental, 

I remark  in  tones  Parental — 

Just  remember — I’m  a Member, 

I’m  a Member  of  The  M.  P.  D.  A. 
(Applause  from  all  the  Members) 

Fred 

Isn’t  it  great — The  Spirit  of  Fraternal- 
ism  that  permeates  the  atmosphere? 

Al 

{A  newly-initiated  member  who  has 
only  been  admitted  to  the  organiza- 
tion the  day  previously  the  Star- 
Director  of  a Comedy  Company  who 
specializes  in  animals,  and  who  is 
having  a couple  of  days'  vacation 
owing  to  the  indisposition  of  "Peter 
the  Great,"  the  diagnosis  being 
"Distemper.") 

What’s  he  talking  about  ? Some  of  these 
highbrow  Directors  make  me  sick.  What 
did  he  mean  by  permeate? 

Jim 

There’s  an  Encyclopaedia  in  the  next 
room.  Maybe  it’s  a new  “gag.”  Just  as 
well  to  listen  in  on  some  of  these  ducks. 


INDUSTRY 

An  Intimate  Travesty 
By  Travers  Vale 


Note  by  the  Author. — This  skit 
is  written  in  a spirit  of  merriment — 
with  malice  to  none — with  the  hope, 
possibly,  that  it  will  serve  to  bring 
home  to  all  of  us,  in  The  Industry, 
faults  that  will  be  remedied.  Re- 
member, none  of  us  are  perfect. 


Sometimes  they  do  broadcast  some  thing 
we  can  use. 

Joe 

(Continuing  Fred's  enthusiasm) 

That’s  the  wonderful  part  of  this  Asso- 
ciation— the  abuses  we’ve  eliminated.  Why, 
I remember  way  back  in  the  early  days  we 
considered  our  fellow-directors  our  per- 
sonal enemies,  but  thank  God 

Roy 

(In  the  midst  of  a heated  argument  at  the 
"Heart"  table) 

That’s  the  rottenest  play  I ever  saw. 
Couldn’t  you  hold  the  Queen  of  Spades  a 
little  while  longer? 

Paul 

(Who  rises  angrily) 

And  take  it  myself?  It’s  every  man  for 
himself. 

Joe 

And  now  you  see — everyone  is  a friend. 
Look  at  the  Industry — how  it  has  pro- 
gressed. Why  I remember  in  the  early 
days 

Al 

That  guy  must  have  come  over  in  The 
Mayflower. 

Joe 

— when  the  Industry  was  still  in  its  in- 
fancy— 

Jim 

(Thoughtfully) 

That  would  make  a great  title,  “Still 
in  Its  Infancy." 

Al 

Been  used  before.  All  the  Film  Mag- 
nates use  it  in  their  speeches  at  the  dinners 
they  give  to  their  Publicity  Men.  They 
do  say  that  Hays  used  it  on  one  occasion, 
and  that  the  Producers’  Association  claims 
that  they  have  it  copyrighted.  No,  it’s 
cold  turkey  for  our  stuff. 


Jim 

That’s  the  trouble  with  the  Big 
Fellers — they  grab  everything. 

Wally 

( A pleasant-faced  Director  with  a per- 
petual smile — a favorite  with  all  his  con- 
freres, and  who  has  had  a preview  of  his 
latest  picture  the  previous  night.) 

Say,  Boys,  did  you  see  my  picture,  last 
night? 

Everyone 

( Brightly — as  if  they  had  enjoyed  it) 

Yes.  Yes. 

Fred 

( Comes  over  to  him  enthusiastically  and 
slaps  him  on  the  shoulder) 

Great  picture,  Wally.  I — I didn’t  quite 
like  the  story,  but  it  was  a great  Picture. 
The  camera-work  was  not  quite  as  good 
as Who  was  it  that  played  the  lead- 

ing part?  I didn’t  think  he  was  quite  the 
Type. 

Joe 

( Chimes  in  with — ) 

I think  it  was  a mistake  not  to  keep  up 
the  suspense.  You  see,  in  the  middle  of 
the  first  reel  everyone  knew  that  the  wife 
was  going  to  leave  the  husband 

Wally 

That’s  what  The  Producer  wanted. 
He  said,  “It  always  happens  that  way  in 
Hollywood,  and  besides  that’s  up  to  The 
Scenario  Department.” 

Joe 

It’s  a great  Picture,  though.  Some  of 
the  Sets  might  have  been  better. 

Wally 

I kicked  about  them  but  The  Producer 
said,  “That  Razinsky  and  Polotskey  and 
all  the  other  Foreign  Directors  had  ‘Shot’ 
them,  and  that  if  they  were  good  enough 
for  them ” 

George 

(Who  has  been  in  a comatose  state  the 
entire  evening,  slowly  and 
solemnly  expounds — ) 

I’ve  got  an  idea. 

Fred 

(Earnestly  to  the  conclave) 

Silence,  Boys.  At  last  George  has  an 
idea.  Project  it. 

George 

It’s  what  Wally  said  about  The  Foreign 
Directors.  Oh,  it’s  a great  idea!  You 
know,  Boys,  I’m  100  per  cent  American. 

Everybody 

(Shouts) 

You  bet  you  are.  Yes.  Yes. 

George 

Born,  raised  and  educated  in  Topango 
Canyon.  Never  left  the  country  until  I 
went  “Over  There.”  Was  one  of  the 
first  to  enlist.  Went  into  the  theatrical 
game  when  I was  a kid,  and  when  the 


1925 


33 


pictures  came  I started  with  them.  From 
acting  I was  promoted  to  directing — made 
over  a hundred  pictures — but  since  the 
armistice  I’ve  practically  done  nothing. 
All  my  years  of  experience  count  for  noth- 
ing. Instead  of  its  being  an  asset,  as  in 
all  other  Professions,  it’s  a liability.  " New 
Blood ” New  Ideas' ' is  the  cry!  Now 
for  my  idea.  Let  me  picture  it  to  you.  I 
am  supposed  to  go  to  Europe — suddenly 
one  day  the  news  is  flashed  that  Rabbi 
Sholem  Ben  Cohinsky,  the  eminent  Direc- 
tor from  Jerusalem,  is  on  his  way  over  to 
New  York.  Do  I go  to  Europe?  No! 
I grow  a beard,  engage  a Press  Representa- 
tive, skip  to  New  York  and  sneak  over  to 
Ellis  Island.  On  my  arrival  at  The 
Battery  I am  deluged  with  offers  by  the 
Potentates  of  The  Industry,  and  if  I can 
only  manage  to  waste  a couple  of  millions 
on  my  first  picture — there  you  are. 

Al 

That  guy’s  got  the  right  dope. 

(At  the  “ Heart  table " another  row  is  in 
progress ) 

Roy 

(Throwing  his  cards  down  angrily) 

The  Queen  of  Spades  again ! ! ! 

Paul 

(An grily  rising ) 

Well  what  did  you  want  me  to  do  with 
it?  Eat  it? 

(A  strange  nondescript  person  enters  the 
door.  He  is  an  Actor.  He  is  dressed  in 
a marvelous  fashion.  White  flannel  trous- 
ers and  shoes.  IV ears  a baseball  sweater, 
partly  concealed  by  an  evening  dress  coat. 
On  his  head  is  a French  military  cap.  He 
is  clean-shaven  on  one  side  of  the  face  and 
wears  a half  beard  and  a half  moustache 
on  the  other.  He  staggers  through  the 
door  and  sinks  in  the  chair  which  is  sub- 
serviently offered  him.  All  the  Directors 
look  at  him  with  reverence.  One  offers 
him  a drink.  Two  other  prominent  Di- 
rectors fan  him.  He  is  evidently  of  great 
importance.) 

Jim 

Who  the  hell’s  him? 

The  Actor 

(Rises  and  is  plainly  astounded  that  he 
should  be  unknown  to  any  person. 

He  strides  towards  Jim) 

What?  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  are  in 
the  picture  business  and  you  don’t  know 
me? 

Jim 

(With  abject  apology) 

Well,  I’ve  been  out  of  town  for  a week. 
Al 

( Reverently) 

You  ain’t  Valentino? 

The  Actor 

No.  He  only  plays  in  one  picture  at  a 
time.  I’m  in  demand.  I play  in  five. 

They  must  have  me.  Directors  wait  for 
me.  Studios  stop  for  me.  Producers  beg 
for  me.  Distributors  clamor  for  me. 
Exhibitors  pray  for  me.  Walk  along 
Broadway  and  you’ll  find  my  name  in 


f MOTION  ncrviu 

director 


electric  lights  on  every  theatre  at  the  same 
time,  but  in  a different  picture. 

Al 

(Pointing  to  his  strange  costume ) 

But  why  the  “get-up?” 

The  Actor 

(Indicating  from  his  waist  to  his  feet) 

From  here  down — I belong  to  the  Holly- 
woodland  Studios.  From  here  to  here 
( indicating  the  baseball  sweater).  Wool- 
worth  Brothers.  The  coat  is  working  in 
a society  picture  with  Silverfish.  This  side 
of  the  face,  at  two  o’clock  (indicating  the 
half-shaven  effect)  is  working  with  the 
Famous  Artists,  while  the  other  side  is 
under  contract  with  The  Half  a Century 
Comedies.  I’m  a very  busy  man. 

Jim 

What  do  you  do  with  your  spare  time? 
The  Actor 

Make  a few  personal  appearances — and 
pay  Alimony.  Talking  of  alimony,  wives 
are  getting  pretty  scarce  around  this  Asso- 
ciation. I thought  that  was  a privilege  of 
the  Actors. 

Al 

Not  satisfied  with  hogging  all  the  parts 
he  wants  the  women. 

(Through  the  door  enters  a tattered 
Tramp,  who  shuffles  slowly  in.  He  is 
known  to  the  Fraternity  as  “ Exzema.” ) 

Roy 

(The  President  of  the  Club  looks  at  him 
with  reverence.  He  rises  solemnly 
to  his  feet) 

Out  of  respect,  Boys ; out  of  respect ! 

(The  entire  assemblage  rises  except  Al, 
who  is  staring  at  the  nondescript  creature. 
They  all  salute  him  proudly.) 

Jim 

(Dragging  Al  to  his  feet) 

On  your  feet!  On  your  feet! 

Al 

Who  is  that?  Mack  Sennett? 

Roy 

Brother  Al,  as  you  only  joined  yester- 
day, the  Secretary  will  enlighten  you. 

Harold 

(The  Secretary  indicating  Exzema) 

That — that  is  the  last  of  the  Independ- 
ent Producers.  (He  tells  the  Leader  of 
the  Orchestra)  A little  plaintive  music 
please.  (The  Orchestra  plays  “ Hearts  and 
Flowers.")  Three  years  ago  he  was  happy 
on  his  little  farm  in  Idaho.  He  had  read 
Sears  and  Roebuck’s  catalogue  and  heard 
of  the  fortunes  to  be  made  in  Independent 
Production  in  Hollywood.  He  sold  his 
Cow,  cranked  his  Ford,  and  soon  arrived 
through  Cahuenga  Pass.  Was  there  a 
Band  to  meet  him?  No.  If  he’d  arrived 
on  the  Santa  Fe,  it  would  have  been  dif- 
ferent. 

Al 

Why  would  it  have  been  different? 

Jim 

Don’t  show  your  ignorance.  All  the 
successful  ones  arrive  by  train. 


Harold 

(Continuing  his  pathetic  recital) 

He  received  his  wonderful  distribution 
contract.  He  has  it  framed  in  the  bath- 
room now.  His  first  picture  was  a great 
success.  The  production  cost  was  only 
twenty-five  thousand  dollars,  and  it  grossed 
nearly  half-a-million.  It  has  been  released 
two  years  and  five  years  from  now  he  has 
hopes  of  getting  back  his  cost  of  produc- 
tion. 

Al 

What’s  become  of  the  half-a-million? 

Harold 

Eaten  up  by  the  Overhead.  The  Presi- 
dent and  the  Seventeen  Vice-Presidents  of 
the  Distributing  Company  have  to  have 
some  salary. 

Jim 

Sure — you  can’t  expect  them  to  work 
for  nothing. 

Harold 

He  mortgaged  his  Ford  and  started  on 
his  second  picture,  and  now  he  walks  to 
The  Club. 

Al 

How  much  did  the  Director  get? 

Harold 

A percentage  of  the  profits. 

Exzema 

The  profits — (Laughing  hysterically.) 
Ha!  Ha!  Ha! 

Jim 

That’s  what  he  got. 

(Exzema  staggers  towards  the  door.) 

Harold 

(Pityingly) 

Where  are  you  going,  old  fellow? 

Exzema 

To  the  Museum,  to  be  with  the  other 
extinct  animals. 

(He  slowly  goes  out  the  door.  The 
Music  stops  and  all  sit  down.  The  Toot 
of  an  automobile  horn  is  heard  outside.  A l 
goes  to  the  window  and  looks  out.) 

Al 

Some  class  to  that  car.  A new  Rolls- 
Royce.  Must  be  a top-notch  Director. 

Jim 

No.  That’s  the  President  of  The  As- 
sassinated Exhibitors’  Distributing  Com- 
pany. They  had  Forty  Independent  Pro- 
ductions on  their  Program  last  year.  None 
of  the  Forty  have  got  their  production  cost 
back  yet,  and  that  is  his  sixth  car. 

Al 

Who  is  that  stout,  swell-looking  guy 
with  him? 

Jim 

The  President  of  The  Hollywoodland 
Company,  one  of  the  biggest  Producing 
companies  in  America,  but  he’s  a good  fel- 
low. Has  a large  family,  and  every  time 
a new  baby  is  born  he  makes  him  a Direc- 
tor. 

(The  Telephone  rings  and  Harold  takes 
off  the  receiver.) 

Harold 

Eh?  I don’t  quite  catch  the  name. 


34 


September 


Whom  do  you  want?  Eh?  Barbara 
wants  him 

( A crowd  of  Directors  start  for  the  door 
at  the  mention  of  her  name.) 

Stop ! 

(As  he  shouts  “Stop”  all  the  men  pause. 
He  speaks  in  the  phone.) 

No.  This  is  not  a Barbers.  It’s  the 
M.P.D.A. 

(Hangs  up  receiver.  To  the  Boys.) 

A mistake,  Boys. 

(All  the  men  return  disconsolately  to 
their  seats.  A freckle-faced  boy  about 
twelve  years  old  enters  the  door.  He  is 
escorted  in  by  a bodyguard  of  eight  police- 
men with  drawn  clubs.  The  boy  approaches 
a well-known  Director.) 

The  Boy 

Ive  ’’Cut”  your  picture. 


Al 

Is  he  a “cutter”? 


Yep. 

But  why  the 
He  needs  it. 


Jim 

Al 

bodyguard  ? 

Jim 

Hush. 


Boy 

(In  a positive  manner  to  the  prominent 
Director) 

I’ve  cut  out  that  sequence  in  the  Royal 
Palace,  and  changed  the  location  from  Vi- 
enna to  Timbuctoo.  I’ve  cut  out  the  lead- 
ing woman  altogether. 

The  Director 

Why? 

Boy 

I don’t  like  the  way  she  bobs  her  hair. 
The  Director 

That  isn’t  the  real  reason.  I’m  not  go- 
ing to  have  all  my  pictures  ruined  by  you. 
Boy 

Ruined?  If  it  wasn’t  for  me  all  your 
stuff  would  be  in  the  can.  You  Directors 
stall  around — shoot  a couple  of  hundred 
thousand  feet  and  make  Eastman  rich,  and 
then  it’s  up  to  me  to  get  your  “Master- 
pieces” over.  You  come  to  a big  dramatic 
situation  and  then  get  stuck — and  then 
you  “Fade-out.”  If  it  wasn’t  for  me  and 
the  title-writers  the  most  of  you  would  be 
in  the  soup. 

The  Director 

Can’t  you  let  a flash  of  the  leading  lady 
stay  in? 

Boy 

And  her  insulting  the  Boss  like  she  did 
the  other  night?  Not  a chance. 

The  Director 

(Sinks  to  his  knees  appealingly) 

On  my  bended  knees  I implore 

Boy 

(IVith  a look  of  utter  disgust  at  him — he 
turns  to  his  guard) 

Fall  in.  (The  Police  line  up  and  they 
march  to  the  door — the  Boy  turns.)  And 
let  me  tell  you  another  thing:  The  Amal- 
gamated Cutters’  Association  have  got 
their  scissors  out — so  beware — beware — 


I-  MOTTO*.  MCTVU 

director 


beware!  (And  he  stalks  out  majestically 
with  his  guard.) 

The  Director 

(Staggers  to  his  feet  and  with  an 
agonizing  cry) 

My  God ! What  will  Sid  Grauman 
say  when  he  sees  that  Picture? 

Al 

(To  Jim) 

Put  me  wise!  Put  me  wise!  Who  is 
Sid  Grauman? 

Jim 

And  you  a Director?  And  you  ask, 
“Who  is  Sid”?  Why,  he’s  the  biggest 
showman  in  the  business.  He  runs  the 
“Gippum  Theatre”  in  Hollywood — the 
one  they  found  in  King  Tut’s  Tomb.  He’s 
got  P.  T.  Barnum  backed  off  the  map — 
always  plays  to  crowded  houses.  If  he  has 
any  empty  seats  he  fills  ’em  up  with  wax 
figgers.  Give  Sid  a rotten  picture,  and 
he’ll  prologue  it  to  success.  Don’t  ever 
tell  nobody  you  don’t  know  Sid. 

(There  is  a yell  of  delight  at  the 
“Heart”  table.) 


Roy 

That  saves  us  twenty-five  cents — The 
Queen. 

Paul 

( A ngrily) 

If  we  were  not  in  The  Club 


Rats ! 


All  at  the  Table 


Joe 


As  I was  saying — the  Fraternal  Spirit — 


The  Director 

(Still  moaning  over  his  unhappy  lot) 

And  they  cut  her  out  of  every  scene. 

(At  this  moment  “ Knowledge ” enters. 
He  is  dressed  in  academical  robes — wears 
horn-rimmed  glasses — evidently  a person- 
age of  profound  wisdom — he  greets  the 
assemblage.) 

Knowledge 

Hello,  Boys! 

Everybody 

Hello,  Knowledge! 

Jim 

(Replying  to  Al’ s puzzled  look  of 
inquiry) 

Head  of  The  Research  Department  at 
The  Half-a-Century  Comedies.  What 

that  guy  doesn’t  know 

(To  The  Director  whom  The  Boy  had 
criticized) 

I looked  up  the  data  on  that  set.  You’ve 
got  seven  different  periods  of  furniture  in 
it.  The  cuspidors  are  all  wrong — they’re 
too  plain — and  the  electric  lights  were  not 
yet  invented. 

The  Director 

But  the  picture’s  released.  Why  didn’t 
you  tell  me  before? 


Knowledge 

Why  didn’t  you  wait  until  I found  out? 
Do  you  expect  The  Research  Department 
to  know  these  things? 


The  Director 

Well,  what  are  we  going  to  do  about  it? 


Knowledge 

We’ll  have  to  put  in  a couple  of  titles 
to  cover  it.  It’s  up  to  the  scenario  staff. 
The  Head  of  the  Scenario  Department 
says  we  can  call  it  a “Curiosity  Shop.”  The 
Efficiency  Department  wants  to  turn  it 
into  “A  Dream.”  The  Technical  Depart- 
ment puts  the  blame  on  the  Property  De- 
partment, and  suggests  we  cut  out  the  en- 
tire scene  and  put  it  in  a “Fight”  picture. 
The  Production  Manager  says  it  would  be 
okay  in  a “Revolutionary”  picture,  but  the 
Studio  Manager  says  it’s  the  bunk.  The 
Camera  Department  said  the  photography 
was  good,  so  they  were  not  to  blame.  The 
Electrical  Department  said,  “How  the 
Hell  were  they  to  know  that  electric  lights 
were  not  invented  in  1865?”  The  only 
way,  in  my  opinion,  is  to  start  a new  Dis- 
tributing Company  and  release  the  picture 
through  it. 

Joe 

Why  not  put  it  in  the  can? 

Knowledge 

Cans  are  all  filled.  We  tried  to  sell  it 
to  The  Seidlitz  News  W eekly,  but  Joe 
said  we’d  be  infringing  on  too  many  of  the 
other  productions. 

The  Director 

What  did  the  Financial  Man  say? 

Knowledge 

It  took  a long  time  to  get  the  straight- 
jacket  on  him.  The  Doctor  at  the  sana 
torium  told  me  he  never  would  be  the 
same.  Of  course,  if  Griffith,  or  some  of 
those  big  Foreign  Directors  had  made  the 
picture,  the  Boss  would  have  said  they  had 
an  object  in  doing  it  that  way — that  it  was 
the  psychology  of  co-ordination,  in  a con- 
crete way,  only  understandable  by  high 
mentality,  engendered  by  intellectuality 
that  emanated  from  their  superhuman  tem- 
peramentality. 

Al 

That  guy  uses  the  needle. 

ScAREHEAD 

(Now  enters  the  door.  He  has  an  eye- 
shade  on.  He  is  coatless — a Typical  City 
Editor.  Jovially  he  greets  the  crowd.) 

Hello,  Boys!  What’s  the  latest  news? 

(All  the  Directors  turn  away  from  him 
with  disgust  and  do  not  reply  to  his  greet- 
ing.) 

Al 

He  seems  mighty  popular  with  the 
crowd.  Who  is  he? 

Jim 

He’s  the  Editor  of  The  Yellow  Journal. 
Al 

Then  why  does  he  ask  us  for  the  news? 
He  is  supposed  to  give  it  to  us,  ain’t  he? 

Jim 

No!  You  poor  simp!  That’s  why  he’s 
anan  Editor.  In  order  not  to  show  his 
ignorance,  if  an  extra  man  or  some  poor 
mechanic  gets  into  trouble  around  the  stu- 
dio, he  runs  big  headlines  in  his  paper — 
“Prominent  Director  Is  Arrested — 
So-and-So,  the  Famous  Director,  Is  Under 
(Continued  on  Page  55) 


192  5 


35 


> X MOTION  ri<TVTU 

©irector 


TALKING  about  the  fickleness  of  the 
fan  public,  an  amusing  incident  is  re- 
lated as  having  occured  at  the  recent 
Greater  Movie  Season  demonstration  in 

San  Francisco 
in  which  Lew 
Cody  and 
Fred  Thom- 
son were  fea- 
tured. Accord- 
ing to  the  yarn 
as  it  came  back 
from  the  Bay 
City  Lew 
Cody  was 
heading  t o- 
ward  the  St.  Francis  Hotel,  where,  follow- 
ing the  parade,  a banquet  and  similar  do- 
ings were  to  be  held  in  honor  of  the  visit- 
ing celebrities.  On  the  way  to  the  hotel 
Lew  conceived  the  idea  of  adopting  a mas- 
cot and  spotted  a street  urchin  in  the 
motley  crowd  on  the  sidelines.  With  that 
impetuosity  which  is  so  characteristic  of 
him,  he  made  a dive  into  the  crowd  and 
made  the  kid  his  mascot.  Everything  was 
jake  until  they  arrived  at  the  St.  Francis 
and  things  were  proceeding  very  much  to 
Lew’s  liking.  But  at  the  hotel  the  kid 
spied  Fred  Thomson  talking  with  a group 
of  visitors. 

“There’s  the  guy  I wanter  see!”  the  kid 
is  reported  to  have  exclaimed  leaving  Lew 
flat  and  bolting  to  the  side  of  Fred  Thom- 
son with  a “mit  me”  expression.  Fred 
•accepted  the  nomination  and  Lew  had  the 
fun  of  seeing  his  mascot  entertained  as 
Fred’s  guest. 

* * # 

AND  speaking  of  Fred  Thomson,  his 
l\  Silver  King  is  reputed  to  have  been 
the  first  equine  guest  to  put  up  at  the  St. 
Francis  in  San  Francisco.  It  was  during 
the  same  Greater  Movie  Season  demonstra- 
tion and  Silver  King  had  been  transported 
to  the  northern  city  for  that  event.  Fol- 
lowing the  parade  a section  of  the  St. 
Francis  grill  was  divided  off  and  a stall 
made  for  the  horse  before  the  fireplace 


where  he  was  an  honored  guest  at  the 
festivities. 

Incidentally  Silver  King  made  the  trip 
from  Hollywood  to  San  Francisco  in  a 
specially  constructed  auto  trailer  designed 
by  Fred  Thomson,  in  eleven  hours  and 
thirty-five  minutes.  One  of  the  fastest 
trips  on  record.  The  S.P.’s  crack  train 
to  San  Francisco,  the  Lark,  makes  it  thir- 
teen hours  and  twenty-five  minutes. 

* * * 

4fT)USY  AS  A BEE”  developed  a dif- 
IJ  ferent  slant  from  that  customarily 
given  it  the  other  day  at  the  Educational 
lot  where  A1  St.  John  was  shooting  scenes 
on  his  next  picture.  Things  were  moving 
along  swimmingly  when  a swarm  of  bees 
descended  on  the  lot  and  put  a stop  to  all 
activity,  not  only  there  but  on  the  Pickford- 
Fairbanks  lot  adjoining. 

* * * 

PITY  the  poor 
studio  worker 
under  the  “broiling” 

California  sun.  His 
lot  is  a hard  one, 
particularly  at  the 
Pickford  - Fairbanks 
studio  where  it  is  re- 
ported that  iced  or- 
ange-juice is  served  every  afternoon  at 
three.  According  to  said  reports  the  cus- 
tom was  introduced  by  Mary  during  the 
“unusual”  days  in  July  and  no  has  seen 
fit  to  discontinue  it. 

And  speaking  of  the  Pickford-Fairbanks 
lot, — wonder  if  the  vogue  for  sideburns  in- 
troduced by  Doug’s  shooting  of  Don  Q. 
has  terminated  yet?  Even  the  bootblack 
officiating  at  the  stand  just  outside  the 
gates,  acquired  a beautiful  set  of  down- 
growing sideburns,  while  they  were  shoot- 
ing that  production.  It  was  quite  a com- 
mon sight  to  see  musicians  and  cameramen 
with  more  hair  growing  down  the  sides 
of  their  cheeks  than  often  appeared  on  their 
heads. 


Herb  rawlinson,  who  has  just 

started  production  for  Rayart  on  a 
new  serial  titled  The  Flame  Fighter,  in 
which  Brenda  Lane  and  Dorothy  Donald 
are  being  fea- 
tured, is  report- 
ed to  have  been 
the  off-scene  hero 
of  an  encounter 
with  Strongheart 
on  the  grass  plot 
in  front  of  the 
F.B.O.  studios. 

According  to  the 
story  as  it  trick- 
led forth  from 
F.B.O. , Herb  and  Gaston  Glass  were  en- 
gaged in  a “friendly  duel”  while  nearby 
Paul  Powell  was  rehearsing  Strongheart 
for  the  early  sequences  in  North  Star  for 
Howard  Estabrook.  It  has  been  said 
that  German  police  dogs  have  been  trained 
to  attack  anyone  holding  a weapon,  and 
that  an  actor  in  such  an  attitude  is  a pet 
aversion.  Be  that  as  it  may,  just  as  Herb 
was  raising  his  weapon  Strongheart  saw 
him.  Forgetting  all  about  the  scene  he 
was  rehearsing  he  made  a leap  for  Rawlin- 
son. The  quick  intervention  of  Strong- 
heart’s  trainer  is  said  to  have  been  all  that 
saved  Herb  from  a severe  mauling. 

* * * 

ALL  OF  WHICH  is  sufficiently  excit- 
jTjL  ing,  even  when  it  is  outside  of  the 
day’s  activity,  but  the  prize  source  of  dis- 
gruntlement  is  to  go  through  a genuine 
mauling  scene  with  a full-grown  leopard 
as  a thrilling  sequence  in  a jungle  picture, 
and  then  to  have  the  producing  company 
quit  production.  That  is  what  happened 
to  Dorothy  Donald  at  the  old  Selig  studio 
recently  where  early  sequences  were  being 
filed  in  Jungle  Fables.  Realism  reached 
a point  a bit  too  acute  for  comfort,  but 
it  was  all  in  the  day’s  work,  until  pro- 
duction was  indefinitely  suspended.  Now 
Dorothy  has  only  her  scars  and  a couple 
of  stills  to  show  for  the  gruelling  moments 
she  spent  wrestling  with  the  leopard. 


36 


September 


That  old  vaudeville  gag 

of  kidding  the  show  has  been  materi- 
ally improved  on  the  M.G.M.  lot  where 
the  big  ’uns  at  the  Culver  City  studio  are 

reported  t o 
have  a myster- 
ious two-reeler 
which  none 
but  the  initiate 
have  been  per- 
mitted to  pre- 
view. Accord- 
ing to  reports, 
however,  certain  of  the  directors  and  play- 
ers concocted  the  idea  of  making  a bur- 
lesque reel  on  their  confreres,  each  im- 
personating the  mannerisms  and  character- 
istics of  some  other  player  or  director.  One 
scene  said  to  show  all  the  directors  on  the 
lot  pawing  around  in  a mud-hole  and  is 
titled  “Looking  for  the  end  of  Von  Stern- 
berg’s picture.”  Finally  Louis  Mayer  is 
shown  driving  on  scene  in  a dilapidated 
flivver,  carrying  an  umbrella  to  keep  off 
the  “rain.”  He  directs  the  search  but 
whether  ending  was  found  has  not  been 
disclosed. 

Mae  Murray  is  reported  to  have  been 
considerably  muffed  over  the  clever  imper- 
sonation of  her  in  this  film  and  it  is  said, 
refuses  to  permit  the  subject  to  be  brought 
up  in  her  presence. 

* * * 


STUDIO  FOLK  throughout  Holly- 
wood, and  particularly  the  old-timers, 
are  sincerely  mourning  the  passing  of  Jenny 
Lee,  one  of  the  real  old-timers  of  the  films, 
who  died  at  her  Hollywood  home,  Wed- 
nesday, August  5th.  Miss  Lee,  who,  in 
private  life,  was  known  as  Mrs.  William 
Courtright,  was  active  in  theatrical  life 
for  more  than  sixty  years.  She  began  her 
career  at  the  age  of  14  and  has  since  played 
many  emotional  parts  on  the  legitimate 
stage  and  screen.  She  came  into  promi- 
nence as  a character  actress  of  genuine 
ability  in  the  role  of  the  Southern  mother 
in  The  Birth  of  a Nation. 

* * * 


THAT  OLD  ADAGE  about  those 
who  came  to  scoff  and  remained — at 
least  to  respect,  has  had  further  exemplifi- 
cation recently  at  The  Writers  where  was 

previewed 
Ralph  Graves’ 
first  picture, 
Swell  Hogan. 
Those  who 
had  seen  the 
early  rushes 
were  extreme- 
ly skeptical  of 
results  and  went  to  the  preview  frankly 
expecting  to  be  bored.  According  to  re- 
ports, however,  Swell  Hogan  is  not  only 
an  interesting  example  of  what  a comedian 
can  do  when  he  turns  his  attention  to  dra- 
matic direction,  but  also  what  can  be  ac- 
complished in  the  cutting  room.  Cut  to 


Tj  \ MOTWX  W»HW 

director 


five  reels,  Swell  Hogan  is  said  to  be  a 
classic  in  characterization  and  a real  gem. 
The  story  is  simple  but  well  told ; suspense 
carefully  developed,  the  plot  a simple 
character  study  of  the  homespun  type.  Rose 
Doner,  of  the  Lady  Be  Good  Company 
makes  her  first  screen  appearance  as  the 
dancer  in  Swell  Hogan’s  cafe  and  is  re- 
ported as  doing  exceptional  work.  Her 
rendition  of  the  Charleston  is  said  to  be 
the  best  that  has  ever  been  executed  on 
the  screen. 

Swell  Hogan  was  produced  at  the  Wal- 
dorf studios  and  Graves  has  a “swell”  pic- 
ture but  no  release. 

Anyway  he  still  has  two  more  pictures 
to  make  for  Mack  Sennett. 

* * * 


WHILE  he  doesn’t  seem  to  be  making 
much  fuss  about  it  li’l  ol’  Dan  Cupid 
apparently  has  been  busy  around  Holly- 
wood studios.  Hardly  had  the  news  of 

weddings  at  the 
Fox  Studios 
been  sprung 
than  Arthur  E. 
Milford,  film 
editor  for  Em- 
bassy Pictures, 
silently  stole 
away  to  the  lit- 
tle church 
around  the  corner,  where  Rev.  Neal  Dodd 
officiates,  and  was  wedded  to  Miss  Doro- 
thy Hunter.  Eleanor  Hunter,  sister  of 
the  bride,  was  maid  of  honor,  and  Arthur 
Huffsmith  was  best  man.  The  couple 
spent  a brief  honeymoon  at  San  Diego 
and  are  now  parked  at  the  Marathon  apart- 
ments. Arthur  Milford  is  reputed  to  be 
one  of  the  best  film  cutters  in  the  business 
and  has  a wide  circle  of  friends  in  the 
picture  colony.  He  now  makes  head- 
quarters on  the  F.B.O.  lot. 


THERE’S  a brand  new  director  in 
Hollywood.  Anyway  there’s  consider- 
able likelihood  that  the  new  arrival  at  the 
home  of  Edward  Laemmle  may  ultimately 
become  a wielder 
of  the  megaphone 
on  the  Universal 
lot.  In  the  mean- 
time it  is  report- 
ed that  a mega- 
phone is  entirely 
unnecessary  and 
that  the  new  arrival  has  no  difficulty  in 
being  heard.  Press  agents  at  Universal 
City  hailed  the  event  as  the  source  of  new 
story  breaks  and  sprang  one  that  had  that 
new  twist  all  P.A.’s  are  reported  to  be 
looking  for.  According  to  the  yarn  as  it 
broke  in  the  Hollywood  papers  Edward 
Laemmle  was  working  on  the  lot  when 
word  reached  him  that  there  was  a “bird 
in  the  office  to  see  him.”  “Who  is  he 
and  what  does  he  want??”  E.  L.  is  re- 
ported to  have  asked  in  that  don’t-bother- 
me-when-I’m-busy  manner  that  directors 


sometimes  affect.  But  when  the  messen- 
ger whispered  “It’s  the  stork”  it  is  said 
that  he  shouted  “Dismiss”  to  the  company 
and  raced  away  to  see  the  “bird”  who  had 
arrived  at  his  home. 


“SOLD  OUT” 

By  Robert  M.  Finch 
This  is  no  lilt  with  a sexual  tilt  for  a screen 
play  up  to  date. 

It's  only  a tale  of  a publicist  pale  who 
tempted  the  hands  of  fate. 

Of  each  manuscript  rare,  from  the  editor's 
chair , he  heard  with  smiling  grace: 
“Your  story  is  good,  be  it  understood ; I’m 
sorry  we  haven’t  the  space." 

He  dug  for  days  in  the  Kliegl  haze  where 
men  make  reel  on  reel, 

'Til  he  found  a tale  to  turn  men  pale  with 
its  human-interest  appeal. 

How  the  star  did  beg,  with  a broken  leg, 
to  go  on  with  the  scene  apace — 
“Your  yarn’s  a pip,"  was  the  editor’s  quip; 
“ It’s  too  bad  we  haven’t  the  space." 

For  year  on  year,  with  many  a tear,  he 
struggled  to  please  the  fates. 

Until,  one  day,  he  passed  away,  and  was 
led  to  the  pearly  gates. 

Saint  Peter  alone,  from  his  mighty  throne, 
looked  down  with  a pitying  face, 

" You  can’t  enter  here,"  said  Heaven’s  seer; 
“ you  see,  we  haven’t  the  space." 

To  the  realms  below,  where  hell-fires  glow, 
the  publicist  tumbled  down. 

On  every  grate,  within  the  gate,  was  a 
P-A  he  knew  in  town. 

The  Devil  hissed  to  the  publicist,  as  he 
looked  in  vain  for  a place, 

“The  Hell  of  it  here,  it  doth  appear,  is 
that  we  haven’t  the  space." 


Mac  Swain  As  Dramatic 
Comedian 

THE  announcement  that  Mack  Swain 
has  definitely  forsaken  straight  com- 
edy for  character  comedian  roles  in 
dramatic  productions,  and  that  he  will  free 
lance  in  the  future,  offers  food  for  some  in- 
teresting speculation.  Mack  Swain  has 
been  so  long  identified  with  out  and  out 
comedy  that  for  the  moment  the  idea  is 
somewhat  startling.  His  work  in  The 
Gold  Rush,  however  indicates  the  possi- 
bilities that  lie  in  that  field.  In  Valen- 
tino’s new  production  The  Lone  Eagle, 
he  further  demonstrates  the  opportunities 
that  lie  in  comedy  relief  in  his  work  as 
the  keeper  of  the  post  house.  And  after 
all  comedy  and  drama  are  often  so  near 
akin  that  but  a fine  line  divides  them.  As 
character  comedian  Mack  Swain  certainly 
offers  interesting  possibilities. 


“Obey  that  impulse,”  says  “Life.”  Not 
bad  advice  that,  either.  Why  not  try  it  with 
THE  DIRECTOR  as  well? 


1925 


37 


f MOTMM  HCTIIM 

director 


RANDOM  THOUGHTS 

By  Al  Rogell 


AN  invitation  to  write  an  article  for 
The  Director  magazine  is,  to  my 
Lmind,  such  a welcome  opportunity 
that  I am  assuming  the  privilege  of  dilat- 
ing on  several  aspects  of  picture-making, 
rather  than  limiting  myself  to  one  particu- 
lar subject.  They  are  all  related,  however, 
because  they  all  appertain  to  the  making  of 
the  movies — the  vineyard  in  which  we  are 
all  laboring  with  heart  and  soul,  so  that 
the  fruit  thereof  may  be  not  only  pleasing 
but  also  worth  while. 

Why  are  directors  not  conceded  to  have 
the  same  versatility  which  the  producers 
have  finally  grudgingly  granted  to  the  ac- 
tors? They  at  last  have  finally  been  freed 
from  the  check-rein  which  has  heretofore 
held  them  always  to  a certain  type  of  per- 
formance but  the  producers,  who  are  our 
bosses  as  well  as  their’s,  too  seldom  see 
that  any  good  director  can  make  more  than 
one  type  of  pictures  and  make  them  well. 

There  are,  of  course,  exceptions  to  this 
as  to  all  other  rules ; ordinarily,  a man  who 
makes  a few  successful  Westerns  is  due 
to  “horse-operas”  for  the  rest  of  his  career 
— at  least  with  the  particular  studio  where 
he  registered  his  success.  Sometimes  a 
man  who  makes  comedies  on  one  lot  may, 
at  the  expiration  of  his  contract,  succeed  in 
“selling  the  idea”  to  another  producer  that 
he  can  make  dramas  and  he  may  even  be 
given  the  chance ; but  this  is  still  a rarity 
in  our  industry.  And  yet,  the  experience 
of  the  last  year  or  two  shows  a number  of 
successful  demonstrations  of  directorial 
versatility  which  have  seemingly  surprised 
everybody  but  the  directors  concerned. 

As  a matter  of  fact,  a director  can  give 
more  to  each  type  of  picture  if  he  is  per- 
mitted to  vary  those  types.  Keep  a man 
on  Westerns  and  he  will  fall  into  a certain 
automatic  routine ; the  same  is  true  if  you 
keep  him  on  slapstick  comedies,  melodra- 
mas or  society  stories.  The  temptation  to 
slip  into  the  rut  is  too  strong  for  human 
beings — even  those  who  sit  behind  the  cam- 
era and  talk  through  megaphones.  Let  the 
man  who  has  been  making  Westerns  do  a 
straight  society  story  and  you  will  be  sur- 
prised at  the  virility  he  gives  to  it  while 
recognizing  the  necessity  for  the  lighter 
touch.  Let  the  director  of  society  stories 
do  an  occasional  Western  and  he  will  add 
the  finesse  he  has  acquired.  Let  the  com- 
edy man  direct  a melodrama  and  he  will 
naturally  insert  bits  of  “business”  which 
will  speed  up  the  action  between  climactic 
points.  And  so  on,  down  through  the  list 
of  the  various  types  into  which  pictures 
have  become  more  or  less  rigidly  classified. 
In  other  words,  change  the  director’s  diet 
occasionally  and  the  result  will  be  healthier 
pictures,  which  means  more  real  artistry 
and  better  box  office  reports. 


(Editor's  Note:  Al  Rogell,  despite  his 
youth,  enjoys  one  of  the  most  com- 
prehensive backgrounds  in  the  film 
world.  His  experience  includes  service 
in  every  department  of  the  studio — prop- 
erty boy,  laboratory  man,  assistant  cam- 
era man,  cinematographer,  author,  adap- 
tor, producer  and  salesman  of  his  own 
pictures.  He  is  now  in  Deadwood  City, 
shooting  two  of  his  own  stories  for  Uni- 
versal.) 


HOW  can  we  work  out  some  kind  of 
universal  regulation  of  picture  pro- 
jection which  varies  so  much  at 
present? 

Any  director  worth  his  salt  is  familiar 
with  the  problems  of  the  theatre  projec- 
tionist and  he  shoots  his  picture  with  those 
problems  in  mind,  along  with  many  other 
factors  which  guide  him  in  his  work.  We 
all  agree  that  one  of  the  most  important 
technical  points  before  us  is  the  matter  of 
tempo — timing  of  our  action  and  determin- 
ing length  of  sequences  and  individual 
scenes  to  work  out  dramatic  effects  by  ac- 
celeration or  retarding.  We  shoot  a story 
with  these  things  in  mind — then  some  semi- 
amateur projectionist  in  a semi-amateur 
theatre  varies  the  speed  of  his  machine  and 
our  picture  is  ruined.  At  a recent  meeting 
of  the  Society  of  Motion  Picture  Engineers, 
its  standards  committee  advocated  a uni- 
versal set  speed  for  projection  of  80  feet 
per  minute.  As  a matter  of  fact,  most 
theatres  show  pictures  at  a speed  of  85  to 
90  feet  per  minute — in  these  days  of  long 
shows  with  ten  or  eleven  reels  of  film  and 
various  entertainment  acts.  If  the  house 
manager  or  the  theatre  operator,  or  both, 
have  a social  engagement  after  the  show, 
they  will  often  set  this  speed  up  a couple 
of  notches  and  more  havoc  ensues. 

Let  us  take  an  idea  from  the  music 
rolls,  where  the  men  who  produce  the  mu- 
sic, and  who  may  be  compared  to  the  di- 
rectors of  the  films,  give  definite  instruc- 
tions regarding  the  speed  with  which  the 
roll  should  be  turned.  These  numbers  are 
marked  along  the  side  of  the  roll  and  the 
wise  man  who  plays  a roll  through  his 
player-piano  follows  the  timing  set  down 
by  the  artist  who  originally  registered  his 
expression  on  this  same  roll. 

When  we  shoot  a scene,  we  know  the 
speed  at  which  it  should  be  projected  for 
the  maximum  artistic  effect.  Let  us,  there- 
fore, indicate  these  changing  speeds  to  the 
projectionist — who  corresponds  to  the  man 
at  the  player-piano.  In  an  inconspicuous 
corner  of  the  little  cards  can  be  printed 
the  speed  in  feet-per-minute  at  which  the 
ensuing  action  should  be  projected  until  a 
change  is  desired.  Of  course,  the  human 


factor  will  always  depart  from  instruc- 
tions, but  at  least  we  can  know  that  we 
have  set  the  proper  speeds  for  the  different 
parts  of  the  picture — then,  if  the  operator 
varies  from  these  instructions,  the  responsi- 
bility is  his,  not  ours.  Fortunately,  the 
vast  majority  of  projectionists  are  consci- 
entious artisans  who  will  co-operate  for 
the  best  results  if  given  definite  instructions 
of  this  nature. 

IF  MOTION  pictures  are  closely  re- 
lated to  all  the  earlier  expressive  arts 
— as  we  all  unanimously  agree — 
would  it  not  be  wise  for  us  to  follow  a 
practice  of  the  choreographic  ballet?  The 
dancers  tell  a story  swiftly  in  pantomime, 
but  at  frequent  intervals  there  is  a tableau 
— what  might  almost  be  called  a “still” 
picture.  These  tableux  not  only  rest  the 
mind  of  the  audience  for  a moment — they 
also  add  tremendously  to  the  effect  of 
beauty  as  expressed  in  the  entire  ballet 
pantomime. 

It  seems  to  me  that  we  who  make  mo- 
tion pictures  can  get  an  important  sugges- 
tion from  this  ballet  practice.  Among  its 
other  functions,  the  screen  serves  to  fulfill 
the  audience-desire  for  beauty  generically 
and  the  occasional  tableau  in  the  midst  of 
action  will  achieve  the  same  results  on  the 
screen  as  on  the  ballet  stage. 

Of  course,  it  must  always  be  borne  in 
mind  that  motion  pictures  must  move.  In 
other  words,  a film  should  not  be  merely 
a succession  of  beautiful  tableaux;  but, 
judiciously  interspersed,  they  will  contri- 
bute a decided  addition  to  our  movies. 

SINCE  I have  been  in  pictures,  I have 
heard  many  long  debates  regarding 
the  most  advantageous  method  of  re- 
hearsing actors  in  front  of  the  camera. 
There  is  one  school  of  directors  who  tell 
their  people  just  enough  of  the  action  and 
the  story  to  carry  them  through  a particu- 
lar set-up.  Then,  there  is  the  other  group 
who  go  over  the  entire  story  with  their 
players  and  who  — if  unrestrained  by  the 
present  policies  of  production  regulation — 
would  rehearse  through  it  and  then  re- 
rehearse it,  seequence  by  sequence.  To 
me,  the  compromise  method  seems  the  best 
from  every  point  of  view.  After  your 
actors  have  read  the  script,  which  the  di- 
rector has  approved  before  shooting,  it 
seems  to  me  it  is  necessary  only  to  re- 
hearse sequences  as  units,  with  additional 
directorial  helps  to  the  players  on  the  in- 
dividual scenes.  This  is  a compromise 
method  which  escapes  the  bugaboo  of  the 
ever-mounting  overhead  and,  at  the  same 
time,  presents  the  story  to  the  players  in 
portions  large  enough  to  give  them  the  ad- 


38 


©irector 


September 


A Famous  Piano 

/^rFamous  People 


'T' HE  Music  Lover’s  Shop  ...  so  widely  known 
as  the  artistic  rendezvous  for  things  that  com- 
plement the  home  beautiful  ...  is  proud  to  offer 
in  its  collections  of  masterpieces  the  famous  Chas. 
M.  Stieff,  Inc.,  Piano. 

This  noted  instrument  has  been  recognized  by  East- 
ern critics  as  the  Standard  in  Pianos  since  1842. 
And  it  is  indeed  fitting  that  such  a Shop  as  Rich- 
ardson’s should  be  selected  to  represent  this  great 
achievement  of  the  craftsman’s  skill. 

Screenland’s  discriminating  taste  for  the  best  will 
confirm  Richardson’s  judgment  in  its  representation 
of  the  Chas.  M.  Stieff,  Inc.,  Piano. 

To  be  had  in  Uprights, 

Qrand  or  Piano  Players 


Richardsons 

. _ Jhe  Music  Lovers'  Shop 
NOW-  at  730  West  Seventh  St 


Radiolas. ...  V ictro  las 
... Imported  Art  Cab - 
inets,  products  of  the 
Music  Lover’s  Shop, 
are  to  be  found  in  the 
Southland’s  finest 
homes . 


1925 


39 


r MOTION  PlfllTU 

director 


vantage  of  perspective.  And  it  is  only 
with  this  advantage,  that  the  actors  can 
give  their  work  the  best  artistry  and  in- 
telligence they  possess. 

There  is  a seemingly  increasing  prac- 
tice for  companies,  especially  on  location, 
to  make  twin  pictures  — to  my  mind, 
this  is  an  excellent  idea.  It  possesses 
not  only  the  advantages  of  economy 
which  immediately  suggest  themselves, 


but  it  also  gives  the  director  and  the  play- 
ers an  opportunity  to  reveal  their  versa- 
tility, which  must  benefit  the  pictures  as 
well  as  the  individuals.  It  provides,  in  a 
measure,  the  same  opportunities  which  were 
present  in  the  early  days  of  the  motion 
picture  stock  companies,  when  the  leading 
players  in  a picture  of  one  day  would  have 
just  bits  in  a picture  shot  the  following 
day.  It  gives  the  director  a chance  to  turn 


out  two  good  pictures  with  a given  group 
of  players,  rather  than  just  one.  Granted 
that  it  is  harder — the  main  thing  we  want 
is  opportunity — and  so  the  creative  director 
hails  with  delight  this  increasing  practice 
of  the  studios.  In  shifting  from  one  pro- 
duction to  the  other,  it  freshens  his  mind 
and  the  minds  of  his  players  and  brings 
out  the  most  in  everybody,  which  must 
inevitably  result  in  a higher  standard  of  art. 


ART  AND  THE  DRAMA 


SOME  of  our  greatest  men  and  scholars 
of  profound  academic  achievement 
have  acknowledged  to  us,  from  time 
to  time,  that  the  drama  has  been  a great 
factor  and  contribution  to  the  history  of 
mankind.  That  the  drama  has  aided  our 
cultural  progress  in  the  forward  stride  of 
civilization  is  a recognized  and  established 
fact.  Today  the  drama  is  a positive  and 
assured  educational  institution,  and  is  con- 
sidered an  integral  part  of  our  cultural 
needs. 

In  just  a brief  survey  of  our  early  civili- 
zation we  find  that  Greece  was  not  only 
the  centre,  but  the  cradle  of  our  civiliza- 
tion. It  was  Greece  and  Greece  only 
which,  because  of  her  supreme  appreciation 
of  the  “beautiful,”  later  became  the  foun- 
tain and  origin  of  all  subsequent  European 
Art.  It  was  this  love  of  the  beautiful 
that  gave  birth  to  finer  morality,  and  true 
civilization. 

According  to  the  Greek  philosophy,  be- 
fore one  could  be  considered  a gentleman 
it  was  necessary  to  be  beautiful.  But  the 
Greek  term,  Beauty,  had  a wider  signific- 
ance, it  implied  beauty  of  the  soul  as  well 
as  material  beauty.  Socrates  himself,  one 
of  the  ablest  minds  that  the  world  has 
known,  went  so  far  as  to  say  that  the  man 
who  is  good  must  also  be  beautiful.  Yet, 
property  and  wealth  signified  little  the 
Athenians.  A man’s  personal  worth  was 
the  true  determining  factor,  and  they 
summed  it  up  in  their  phrase,  “both  good 
and  beautiful”  ( kalos  K'agathos) . 

Holborn’s  Theory 

Stoughton  Holborn,  one  of  our  foremost 
lecturers  on  Art  and  Archaeology,  a mas- 
ter identified  with  Oxford  and  Cambridge, 
in  his  treatise,  The  Need  For  Art  In  Life, 
tells  us  that  is  was  the  love  of  the  beauti- 
ful that  inspired  the  astounding  achieve- 
ments of  the  Greek.  It  was  they  who 
crystallized  our  law,  our  moral  ethics,  lit- 
erature, drama  and  art. 

And  thus  we  find  that  the  drama  was 
first  conceived  in  the  Greek  Art,  which  is 
the  point  of  the  present  discussion.  It  is 
impossible  in  so  short  a space  to  give  a 
detailed  description  of  the  drama, — the 
theatre, — the  most  consummate  form  of 


By  Clara  Phileo  Shecter 

literary  art  the  world  has  even  seen. 

The  Greek  drama  was  renowned  for  its 
choice  of  themes,  and  the  grandeur  of  its 
form,  diction,  and  atmosphere.  Or,  we 
might  turn  to  its  wonderful  unity,  a unity 
which  was  not  material  or  mechanical,  but 
the  result  of  the  fundamental  principles  of 
beauty,  which  aim  at  the  glorification  of 
mankind. 

And  so  we  have,  with  the  glowing 
achievements  of  Greece,  the  inception  of 
the  true  Drama  as  a significant  portion  of 
her  Art.  The  Drama  is  like  a vast  foun- 
tain from  it  flow  the  great  knowledge  and 
teaching  that  inspired  and  enlightened  the 
world.  It  was  the  drama  which  was  the 
great  teacher  that  enabled  Greece  to  pre- 
sent a subtle  artistic  form  with  a supreme 
intellect. 

The  Prolific  Age 

During  the  Golden  Century — the  age  of 
learning  and  power — in  Athens,  the  num- 
ber of  dramas,  the  highest  literary  pro- 
duction ever  conceived  by  the  mind  of 
man,  was,  at  a low  estimate,  at  least  four 
thousand.  The  free  population  of  Athens 
was  only  about  that  of  Toledo,  which  has 
a population  of  a little  over  a quarter  of 
a million  people.  The  Greek  drama  was 
said  to  be  superior  even  to  the  Elizabethan 
drama,  both  in  quality  and  in  presentation. 

In  common  parlance,  how  does  the  drama 
serve  as  a factor  in  our  cultural  develop- 
ment? The  drama  caters  to  the  objective: 
it  expresses  human  emotion.  By  a true 
presentation  of  characters,  we  visualize  all 
that  is  beautiful  in  contrast  to  the  sordid 
and  thwarted  emotions.  It  is  the  drama 
that  is  the  great  teacher  of  man’s  relation- 
ship to  his  environment.  Man  must  have 
an  environment  that  is  beautiful  in  which 
to  grow.  The  drama  always  was  consid- 
ered the  teacher  of  a morality,  therefore  we 
should  strive  to  maintain  the  Greek  con- 
ception of  “beauty,”  for  the  loss  of  the 
artistic  may  cause  damage  to  our  whole 
nature. 

Now  the  new  drama — the  silent  drama 
— does  it  reflect  the  spirit  of  art?  Does 
it  minister  to  art?  Indeed,  it  does.  What 
unexplored  fields  of  beauty  and  art  it  un- 
veils to  us!  What  infinite  possibilities  the 


“magic  screen”  has  made  known  to  us! 
What  marvelous  achievements  of  science 
and  art  it  brings  to  us!  To  think  that  a 
click  of  the  camera  brings  to  our  view 
beautiful  Venice,  scenes  from  glorious 
Florence,  the  gigantic  Alps,  the  dashing 
waves,  the  planets,  the  whole  universe  to 
behold  and  to  admire,  and,  in  addition,  the 
portrayal  of  human  feeling  and  emotion! 

For  a paltry  sum — the  fraction  of  a 
dollar — we  find  ourselves  seated  comfort- 
ably in  a gorgeous  amphitheatre,  viewing 
the  treasures  of  the  universe,  Art,  Beauty. 
This  wonderful  achievement  of  science 
makes  it  beyond  human  comprehension  to 
conceive  the  vastness  and  the  beauty  that 
the  “silver  screen”  has  to  offer.  The  im- 
mortal camera  and  the  skill  of  the  human 
hand  and  mind  bring  literature  and  art 
within  the  reach  of  the  poor  and  the  rich. 
Those  of  us  who  love  travel,  and  desire 
the  knowledge  of  places  with  view  to  study 
of  customs,  locales  and  people,  but  lack 
the  material  means,  are  now  able  to  find 
some  source  of  satisfaction  by  frequenting 
the  motion  picture  theatre,  where  we  have 
an  opportunity  to  view  the  drama  and  the 
spectacular  events  of  the  day,  thus  giving 
all  people  an  avenue  for  study  and  obser- 
vation.  Some  of  our  motion  picture  pres- 
entations  are  produced  at  a cost  of  thous- 
ands of  dollars;  some  of  the  productions 
closely  approach  the  seven  figure  mark,  and 
yet  the  rich  and  the  poor  alike  are  able 
to  enjoy  this  beautiful  luxury  of  Art. 


HOlly  3678 


EARL  A.  EVERETT 

ATTORNEY  AT  LAW 
General  Practice 

204  A.  Z.  Taft  Bldg. 

Santa  Monica  Bl<vd.  at  IVestern  Ave. 
Hollywood 


40 


MOTION  MITIM 

director 


September 


The  Directory 


Slow  Motion 

WHY  wouldn’t  a comedy 
done  entirely  in  slow 
motion  be  a scream?” 
asks  a reader  of  The  Direc- 
tor in  an  inquiry  concerning 
how  slow  motion  effects  are 
obtained,  and  adds,  “Just  shut 
your  eyes  and  imagine  one  of 
Lloyd  Hamilton’s  comedies  in 
slow  motion.” 

The  question,  being  parenthetic  to  the 
main  question  concerning  slow  motion,  no 
attempt  has  been  made  to  answer  it  here, 
but  it  may  afford  room  for  interesting 
speculation  and  we  shall  be  glad  to  hear 
further  on  the  possibilities  that  may  be 
contained  in  that  query  or  the  objections 
which  may  exist  rendering  it  impractical. 

The  original  question  together  with  the 
answer  by  Foster  Goss,  of  the  American 
Society  of  Cinematographers,  follows: 

Editor,  The  Director: 

Please  tell  me  how  slow  motion  is  ob- 
tained. Is  that  done  by  slowing  up  the 
camera  or  by  some  special  machine;  or  is 
it  accomplished  by  projecting  the  picture 
faster? 

Why  wouldn’t  a comedy  done  entirely  in 
slow  motion  be  a scream?  Something  short 
and  foolish.  Just  shut  your  eyes  and  im- 
agine one  of  Lloyd  Hamilton’s  comedies  in 
slow  motion.  Mrs.  E.  A.  G. . 

A nswer  by  Foster  Goss 
The  standard  normal  speed  of  taking 
motion  pictures,  as  recognized  by  the 
American  Society  of  Cinematographers,  is 
60  feet  per  minute — that  is,  one  foot  per 
second.  In  turn,  each  foot  of  film  con- 
tains sixteen  “frames,”  each  “frame”  being 
an  individual  picture,  which  means  that 
sixteen  images  are  registered  on  a continu- 
ous strip  of  film  every  second.  This  is 
considered  normal  taking  speed. 

The  standard  projection  speed  recog- 
nized by  the  A.S.C.  is  80  feet  per  minute. 
This  is  the  standard  recently  adopted  in 
place  of  the  former  standard  of  60  feet 
per  minute  which  has  become  ill  adapted 
to  the  continued  improvement  in  projec- 
tion mechanisms.  After  a great  deal  of 
experimenting,  the  60-80  ratio  has  been 
finally  determined  upon  as  being  the  ideal 
basis  for  taking  and  projecting  motion  pic- 
tures. 

All  of  which  may  seem  more  or  less 
irrelevant  to  the  question  but  helps  in  es- 
tablishing a definite  premise  by  which  the 
basic  principles  involved  in  slow  motion 
may  be  the  more  readily  understood. 

Contrary  to  what  the  popular  concep- 
tion may  be,  slow  motion  pictures  are  made 
not  by  slowing  down  the  normal  rate  of 
taking  speed,  but,  actually,  by  increasing 
that  speed.  The  increase  of  speed  in  ex- 
cess of  60  feet  per  minute  is  in  direct 
proportion  to  the  degree  of  slow  motion 
desired,  with  the  result  that  when  the 
picture  taken  at  this  accelerated  speed  is 
projected  at  the  normal  rate  of  80  feet 
per  minute  the  series  of  “frames”  which 


A source  of  authentic 
information  concerning 
^ the  making  of  sp- 
* Motion  Pictures  * 

have  been  taken  or  exposed  at  briefer  in- 
tervals give  a more  detailed  record  of  the 
movements  of  the  character  or  object  pho- 
tographed. The  result  is  that  where  nor- 
mally the  audience  would  observe  the  com- 
pleted action  as  a whole  and  as  a single 
act,  by  taking  and  showing  a much  greater 
number  of  pictures  of  that  action,  each 
separate  and  detailed  step  leading  up  to 
the  completed  act  is  revealed. 

While  slow  motion  may  be  obtained  in 
varying  degrees  and  incidental  effects  made 
without  changing  cameras,  simply  by 
speeding  up  the  camera,  enough  to  slow 
down  the  action  at  that  particular  point, 
the  extreme  slow  motion  effects  are  usu- 
ally otbained  by  the  use  of  a special  high 
speed  attachment  permitting  acceleration  to 
many  times  normal  taking  speed. 

Going  to  the  opposite  extreme,  the  rapid- 
fire  action  which  characterizes  comedies, 
chase  scenes,  etc.,  is  created  by  slowing 
dozen  the  taking  speed  with  the  result  that 
fewer  images  are  registered  and  the  speed 
of  the  action  is  seemingly  greatly  acceler- 
ated, when  the  picture  is  projected  at  the 
normal  rate  of  80  feet  per  minute. 

Foster  Goss, 
American  Society  of 
Cinematographers 


Old  Ships 

FROM  a letter  touching  on  several 
matters,  pertinent  to  the  magazine  but 
having  no  direct  bearing  to  this  de- 
partment, has  been  taken  the  following 
question  the  answers  to  which  have  been 
prepared  by  Frank  Lloyd  and  by  a research 
man  who  is  in  truth  a rara  avis  in  motion 
pictures — a man  who  shrinks  from  publici- 
ty; and  requests  that  his  name  not  be  used. 

How  do  they  obtain  the  old  galleys  and 
ancient  ships  such  as  were  used  in  The 
Sea  Hawk,  etc.?  Do  they  make  them  or 
are  they  “faked,”  and  where  do  they  get 
the  proper  specifications? 

Answer  by  Frank  Lloyd 

To  obtain  the  four  ships  necessary  for 
this  picture,  we  bought  four  hulls  ranging 
from  95  feet  in  length  to  285  feet.  These 
were  brought  to  San  Pedro,  stripped  and 
rebuilt  to  resemble  sixteenth  century  Eng- 
lish, Spanish  and  Moorish  vessels.  The 
ships  were  reconstructed  by  crews  working 
three  shifts  a day  for  ninety  days,  at  an 
expense  of  $285,000.  Each  ship  was  made 


seaworthy  and  all  but  one  were 
propelled  by  their  own  power 
and  averaged  seven  miles  an 
hour.  However,  when  the 
ships  were  used  in  action,  they 
were  actually  rowed  and  sail- 
ing and  no  motive  power  was 
used.  The  Sea  Hawk  fleet 
represents  the  most  pretentious 
motion  picture  ship-building 
program  ever  undertaken,  and 
incidentally  required  a greater 
expense  in  their  construction  alone  than  is 
necessary  for  the  entire  usual  super-pro- 
duction. 

Frank  Lloyd 


While  the  expedient  of  using  a minia- 
ture ship  is  cometimes  employed  when  the 
script  calls  for  the  destruction  of  the  ship, 
in  most  instances  actual  vessels  are  used. 
Sometimes  by  building  the  necessary  super- 
structure relatively  modern  ships,  'small 
schooners,  etc.,  may  be  converted  into 
semblances  of  antique  vessels.  The  par- 
ticular problem  involved,  the  importance 
of  the  ship  in  the  picture,  whether  it  is 
used  for  close  shots  or  always  at  a distance 
all  enter  into  such  an  equation. 

To  be  specific  with  respect  to  the 
question  asked,  the  galleys  used  in  The 
Sea  Hawk  were  actually  built  and  neces- 
sarily so,  for  a great  deal  of  the  action  of 
that  picture  evolved  around  them.  Sim- 
ilarly in  the  production  of  Ben  Hur  Ro- 
man galleys  were  actually  constructed  in 
Italy  for  the  important  sequences  when 
Ben  Hur  makes  his  spectacular  rise  from 
his  lot  as  galley  slave  to  one  of  high  Ro- 
man rank.  When  Charles  Ray  produced 
Miles  Standish  he  built  at  considerable 
expense  an  exact  replica  of  the  Mayflower 
— above  the  water  line.  Inasmuch  as  the 
craft  was  built  on  the  studio  lot  and  never 
entered  the  water,  details  below  the  water 
line  were  not  necessary,  of  course,  and 
when  water  was  necessary  the  space  around 
the  ship  was  flooded.  But  the  interesting 
detail  here  is  the  fact  that  the  ship  was 
built,  complete  in  every  detail  as  to  super- 
structure and  rigging. 

The  matter  of  getting  “proper  specifica- 
tions” for  the  construction  of  such  ships 
falls  into  the  province  of  the  research  de- 
partment, either  that  conducted  by  the 
studio  where  the  production  is  being  made, 
or  by  one  of  the  independent  research  bu- 
reaus which  make  it  a business  of  collect- 
ing specific  information  on  all  sorts  of  sub- 
jects. Research  is  an  important  feature 
of  motion  picture  production  today,  an  im- 
portance which  is  largely  attributable  to 
the  fact  that  the  American  audience  is  be- 
coming so  thoroughly  educated  by  the  real- 
ism of  motion  pictures  as  to  demand  a 
reasonable  degree  of  accuracy  and  authen- 
ticity. 


1925 


©irector 


41 


“The  Lost  World” 

HERE’S  a query  regarding  The  Lost 
World,  and  one  that  brings  up  an 
interesting  point.  In  procuring 
the  effects  on  the  prehistoric  plateau  it  is 
quite  obvious  that  certain  “tricks  of  the 
trade”  had  to  be  employed,  so  obvious  that 
to  afford  a brief  and  general  explanation 
of  those  tricks  adds  to  the  interest  rather 
than  detracting  from  the  naturalness  of  the 
illusion.  Hence  such  a question  may  be 
deemed  to  have  a logical  place  in  this  de- 
partment and  the  answer  by  Harry  O. 
Hoyt,  who  directed  the  production,  is  given 
in  a short  and  sketchy  summary  of  the 
general  principals  involved. 

Editor  The  Director: 

Won’t  someone  please  explain  in  a 
general  way  how  it  was  possible  to 
create  such  realistic  effects  in  The  Lost 
World,  particularly  the  scenes  on  the 
prehistoric  plateau  where  animals 
which  we  all  know  have  been  extinct 
for  thousands  of  years  were  made  to 
appear  in  lifelife  naturalness?  How 
do  they  do  it? 

G.  E.  I , 

St.  Paul,  Minn. 

Answer  by  Mr.  Hoyt 
To  tell  in  a couple  of  hundred  words 
how  we  made  The  Lost  World  is  an  even 
harder  task  than  confronted  us  in  making 
the  picture.  In  short,  it  was  an  extension 
of  the  animated  cartoon  idea,  except  that, 
instead  of  animating  drawings,  we  animated 
figures.  This  process  naturally  called  for 
multiple  exposure  and  in  some  cases  we 
had  as  high  as  nine  exposures  on  the  same 
piece  of  film.  The  matter  of  timing  was 
tremendously  important — as,  for  example, 
in  the  fire  scenes,  we  had  to  animate  the 
animals  and  then  animate  the  fire,  so  that 
the  speed  with  which  the  smoke  rose  would 
not  be  too  fast  for  the  movement  of  the 
animals,  and  both  of  these  in  turn  had  to 
be  co-ordinated  in  time  with  the  move- 
ments of  the  human  beings  on  still  another 
exposure. 

The  entire  picture  was  made  on  the 
United  Studio  lot.  The  animals  were  ab- 
solutely correct  from  a scientific  basis, 
from  data  furnished  to  us  by  the  American 
Museum  of  Natural  History  and  the  Brit- 
ish Museum. 

To  make  the  movements  of  the  prehis- 
toric animals  seem  less  grotesque,  we  in- 
troduced modern  pets  and  wild  animals 
into  the  picture  before  we  came  to  the 
prehistoric  plateau,  thus  securing  not  only 
an  animal  unity  for  the  whole  picture,  but 
also  shooting  close-ups  of  the  movements 
of  familiar  animals,  revealing  their  jerky 
nature,  so  that  when  the  animated  mon- 
sters moved,  their  actions  seemed  more 
natural  because  of  the  preceding  demon- 
stration. Harry  O.  Hoyt 


There  are  lots  of  ways  in  which  you  can 
spend  $2.50  to  much  less  advantage  than  in 
a year’s  subscription  to  THE  DIRECTOR. 


Individuality 


. . . . that  distinctive  touch  which  stamps  a home 
with  the  personality  of  its  occupant  . . . that  little 
touch  of  artistry,  subtle,  intangible,  yet  so  reflective 
of  the  characteristics  of  the  owner  . . . just  the 
right  blending  of  colors  ...  a drape  here,  a piece 
of  period  furniture  there  ...  a picture  hung  with 
seeming  irrevelence,  yet  in  such  a manner  that  it  just 
fits  into  the  scheme  ...  an  inconspicuous  piece  of 
bric-a-brac  or  ornament  that  adds  a distinctive  note 
. . . such  is  interior  decorating  the  Behannesey  way, 
in  which  expert  knowledge  and  experience  are 
blended  with  artistry;  as,  for  example,  the  individu- 
ality which  has  been  injected  into  the  decorating  of 
such  homes  as  those  of 

Mabel  Normand  Jack  Dempsey 

Mayor  Cryer  Viola  Dana 

Lew  Cody  Percy  Eisen 

Vic  Schertzinger 

Behannesey’s  Art  Studio 

Interior  Decorators  of  Individuality 

HOlly  3936  1122  North  Western  Avenue 

Hollywood 


42 

THUNDERING  SILENCE 

(Continued  from  Page  26) 

"I  have  learned  of  its  existence,”  she  re- 
plied, “but  it  has  disappeared.  And,  I am 
positive  the  police  didn’t  find  it.” 

Chapin  nodded  thoughtfully  and  then 
he  looked  at  her  and  said ; “The  money 
was  in  a tin-box,  under  Morgan’s  arm, 
when  I left  the  room.” 

Claudia  leaned  forward  with  interest. 
“But,  when  I came  back  into  the  room, 
the  box  had  disappeared.” 

She  studied  the  floor  a moment  and 
frowned.  His  explanation  was  simple,  but 
it  was  too  simple  to  ring  true.  She  didn’t 
believe  him,  and  she  let  him  know  it  as 
she  said : 

“You’d  have  some  difficulty  in  making 
the  police  believe  that.” 

“It’s  true,  nevertheless,”  he  insisted. 
“Furthermore,  I would  have  been  entitled 
too  keep  it — perfectly  justified.  It  was 
my  money,  or  at  least  money  that  I had 
earned.  I’d  worked  damned  hard  for 
every  cent  of  it.” 

She  listened  and  smiled  as  she  shrugged 
her  pretty  shoulders.  “You  were  an  im- 
postor,” she  reminded  him,  bluntly.  “It 
might  be  well  to  keep  that  in  mind,  Mr. 
Chapin.  The  law  would  take  that  into 
consideration.  Perhaps  you  did  make  it, 
but  you  made  it  for  John  Morgan.  The 
world  knew  you  as  John  Morgan  and 
every  business  transaction  handled  by  you 


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Telephone  GRanite  5451 


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director 

was  supposed  to  have  been  negotiated  by 
the  man  whose  name  you  were  using.  It 
was  a perfectly  amicable  arrangement.  You 
both  agreed  to  it,  and  it  is  assumed  that 
you  were  in  your  right  mind  when  you 
made  the  agreement.” 

He  realized  she  was  speaking  the  truth, 
and  it  didn’t  please  him  a great  deal.  The 
more  he  pondered  over  this  entire  business 
the  more  convinced  he  became  that  it  had 
been  a foolish  game  for  him  to  play.  He 
hadn’t  benefited  much  by  the  deal,  and  just 
at  present,  it  looked  as  though  he  stood  a 
fairly  good  chance  of  getting  into  trouble 
before  it  was  all  cleared  up.  Finally  he 
looked  at  her  and  said ; 

“What  do  you  intend  doing?” 

She  had  her  answer  ready,  and  smiled  as 
she  calmly  replied;  “I  intend  to  remain 
here,  as  Mrs.  John  Morgan — wind  up  his 
affairs — take  care  of  all  the  little  details — 
dispose  of  the  estate — collect  the  $200,000 
from  my  deceased  husband’s  insurance  pol- 
icy— and  then  say  au  revoir.” 

Chapin  smiled  at  the  irony  of  it  all.  He 
couldn’t  help  it.  He  realized  that  Clau- 
dia Carlstedt  was  a very  clever  woman, 
in  fact  he  had  underestimated  her  shrewd- 
ness. She  was  playing  a very  daring  game 
and  he  could  not  help  but  admire  her 
bravery.  The  stakes  were  worth  it,  but 
the  danger  in  case  she  failed  was  indeed 
great.  Her  chances  of  success  were  not 
to  be  discounted.  Only  one  individual 
stood  between  this  woman  and  her  goal. 
There  was  only  one  who  could  prevent 
her  from  carrying  out  her  plans  without 
fear  of  being  detected  by  the  police.  And 
that  one  person  was  Howard  Chapin.  It 
might  be  well  to  remind  her  of  that  before 
she  started. 

“I  presume  you  are  aware  that  these 
plans  can  be  considerably  altered?”  He 
said  this  quite  confidently. 

“Oh,  don’t  be  so  silly:  of  course  I do.” 
And  her  smile  was  quite  tantalizing. 

But  Chapin  appeared  to  ignore  it,  and 
after  a momentary  hesitation,  he  met  her 
gaze  with  a grave  countenance  as  he  re- 
marked ; “One  word  from  me  to  the  police, 
would  have  an  unpleasant  effect,  I’m  sure.” 
She  threw  back  her  head  and  laughed 
heartily.  But,  you’re  not  so  stupid,  I be- 
lieve.” Then  she  became  serious.  ’’Pris- 
ons are  such  disagreeable  places.” 

Again  she  was  right.  Both  Morgan  and 
he  had  broken  the  law  by  entering  into 
such  a strange  pact.  Morgan  was  safe : 
he  was  beyond  the  reach  of  earthly  punish- 
ment; but  Howard  Chapin  was  a living 
personage,  and  at  the  present  moment,  in 
very  good  health.  However,  he  was  not 
going  to  let  her  hold  all  the  good  cards. 
There  was  no  reason  why  he  shouldn’t 
do  a little  bluffing,  for  she  had  been  doing 
quite  a little  of  it  since  he  came  in. 

“Suppose  I decide  to  run  all  risks  and 
accept  whatever  punishment  which  might 
result  therefrom?”  he  asked  her. 

“I  should  then  feel  very  sorry  for  you,” 
she  replied  sternly.  “There  are  others  in- 


September 

terested,  and  I fear  they  would  not  be 
very  lenient  with  you.”  She  rose  and  clamlv 
faced  him  with  a challenging  look. 

He  was  silent  for  a moment.  Then  he 
stood  up  and  studied  her  with  an  amused 
expression.  He  admitted  to  himself  that 
he  was  puzzled.  It  was  the  most  baffling 
mystery  of  which  he  had  any  knowledge, 
and  it  had  few  equals  even  in  fiction.  He 
was  positive  that  this  beautiful  creature 
was  not  Mrs.  John  Morgan.  That  much 
evidence  was  in  his  possession.  To  con- 
vince others,  would  be  more  difficult,  for 
Claudia  Carlstedt  and  Mrs.  John  Morgan 
were  exactly  alike.  In  fact,  so  closely  did 
they  resemble  each  other  that  they  might 
easily  be  taken  for  twins. 

“How  long  have  you  been  here?”  he 
asked  abruptly. 

“I  came  here  early  this  evening.” 

“And  the  servants?  ....  Ricketts — and 
Wenzel  the  chauffeur?” 

“They  left  soon  after  I arrived.”  And 
then,  as  she  noted  his  curious  glance.  “Ser- 
vants can  always  be  purchased.” 

“But  they  usually  put  a price  on  their 
secrecy,  too,”  he  reminded  her. 

She  smiled.  “You  do  not  seem  to  realize 
that  I am  not  seeking  privacy.  I came 
here  as  Mrs.  John  Morgan,  and  the  serv- 
ants received  me  as  the  head  of  this  house- 
hold. The  deception  is  quite  as  complete 
as  your  masquerade.”  Then,  as  she  glanced 
aside  reminiscently;  “Why,  poor  old  Rick- 
etts was  so  pleased  to  see  me  that  he  fell 
over  a cloisonne  vase.  And,  when  I in- 
formed him  that  his  services  would  not  be 
required  here  any  longer,  he  was  unable 
to  control  his  grief.  However,  I was 
able  quickly  to  dry  his  tears  with  some 
handsomely-engraved  gold  notes,  which 
will  secure  him  against  poverty  for  the  re- 
mainder of  his  days.” 

Chapin  paced  the  floor,  and  pondered. 
This  woman  was  no  amateur.  It  was  plain 
that  she  had  deliberately  planned  every- 
thing before  the  Empress  of  India  arrived 
at  San  Pedro.  She  had  carefully  plotted 
this  whole  business  before  she  booked  pas- 
sage on  the  steamer  at  Manila. 

“You’re  evidently  playing  this  very  dan- 
gerous game — alone,”  he  mused. 

“Perhaps.” 

Then,  after  a considerable  pause,  during 
which  time  she  made  a careful  study  of 
the  man  who  had  stopped  abruptly  in 
front  of  her,  she  spoke.  “I  hope  to  carry 
out  this  entire  scheme  successfully,  pro- 
viding I can  count  on  your  silence.” 

He  nodded  curiously. 

“How  much  will  that  secrecy  cost  me?” 
she  added,  in  a business-like  manner. 

Chapin  was  silent  a moment  as  he 
glanced  aside.  She  stood  motionless, 
looking  into  his  eyes  and  waiting  for  his 
reply.  Then  he  came  a step  nearer  her, 
and  staring  straight  into  her  upturned 
countenance,  said;  “It  will  cost  you  more 
than  you  would  be  willing  to  pay.” 

“I  will  make  any  reasonable  sacrifice,” 
she  informed  him. 

(To  be  continued  in  the  October  Number) 


1925 


J MOTION  *K  TORI 

director 


43 


mm 

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— it’s  just  a matter  of  business  and  horse-sensei 


— if  you  have  the  goods,  you’ll  get  to  the  top;  but  it  takes 
a long  time  without  publicity  and  this  time  means  money 
and  effort  to  you  / 

— the  right  kind  of  publicity  will  bring  you  up  speedily 
and  surely/ 

— for  example : 


Director  X made  $37,500  last  year. 
Publicity  brought  him  a year’s  contract 


f 


at  $125,000 — and  with  a more  important  producer# 

Scenarist  Y averaged  $500  a week  last  year. 
Publicity  made  him  a director 
and  his  salary  is  $1,000  per  week/ 

Actor  Z wanted  to  come  back  to  the  screen. 
Publicity  on  four  pictures  got 
him  a stellar  unit  at  a big  studio/ 

-you  can  easily  learn  who  they  are  and  what  it  cost  them, 
because  their  campaigns  were  conducted  by  yours  truly/ 

— let’s  talk  it  over# 


GEORGE  LANDY 

PUBLICITY— EXPLOITATION 


6683  Sunset  Boulevard  [Suite  3] 


HEmpstead  2893 


.(9ft 
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44 


¥ MOTION  MTTVU 

director 


THE  BARNSTORMER 

(Continued  from  Page  22) 


for  the  depot,  Mr.  Reed,  the  proprietor, 
advised  us  to  wait  and  ride  down  in  the 
hotel  bus. 

He  was  so  insistent  that  eight  of  us 
waited  and  rode  in  his  old  bus,  although 
the  station  was  only  a few  blocks  away. 
On  reaching  the  station,  the  driver  de- 
manded two  dollars. 

I indignantly  refused,  informing  him 
that,  as  we  didn’t  pay  going  up,  we  would 
not  pay  coming  down.  He  replied:  “We 
don’t  charge  going  up,”  and  to  my  protest 
that  there  was  no  sign  in  his  bus  reading 
“fare  twenty-five  cents,”  he  declared: 
“Well,  we  don’t  have  to  put  up  any 
sign  and  I want  two  dollars  quick!” 

I advised  him  to  “go  to and  get  it.” 

He  left  me  but  immediately  returned 
with  Reed,  the  hotel  man,  who  started  to 
upbraid  me  as  an  evader  of  just  bills.  I 
held  to  my  opinion  that  the  charge  was 
unjust  and  they  both  withdrew,  but  as  I 
was  watching  the  baggage  go  on  the  train, 
a man  stepped  up  to  me  saying,  “Your 
name  Frank  Cooley?” 

On  my  admitting  it  was,  he  stated, 
"1  his  man” — indicating  the  bus  driver — 
“has  a bill  against  you  for  two  dollars  and 
you  will  have  to  pay  it  or  you  don’t  leave 
town.  ’ To  my  declaration  that  I \vould 
pay  nothing,  he  informed  me  that  I was 
under  arrest. 

I called  to  my  wife,  who  was  on  the 
train.  She  opened  the  car  window  and  I 
handed  her  the  bank  roll  with  instructions 
to  take  the  company  back  to  Phoenix,  put 
them  up  at  the  Mills  hotel  and  await  de- 
\ elopments  as  I intended  to  see  the  thing 
through.  The  marshal  then  put  me  in  the 
same  hotel  bus  and  we  started  to  jail. 
Suddenly  he  turned  savagely  on  me  with 

\ ou’re  a of  a man ; why  don’t  you 

pay  your  bills?”  I replied  that  I tried  to 
when  they  were  legitimate.  “Well,”  he 
said,  “this  man  pays  a license  and  is  en- 
titled to  the  protection  of  the  law.” 

That  gave  me  a great  opening  and  I 
dramatically  replied,  “I  am  a citizen  of 
the  United  States  and  am  also  entitled  to 
the  protection  of  the  law.  You  think  you’re 
right,  I think  I’m  right,  so  we  will  see 
this  thing  through.  If  you  win  I’ll  have 
to  take  the  consequences;  if  I win  I’ll 
own  this  horse  and  rig.  Now  shut  up,  as  I 
have  nothing  more  to  say.” 

We  drove  in  silence  for  a few  blocks, 
then  the  marshal  whispered  to  the  driver, 
who  turned  his  horse  around  and  using  his 
whip,  got  us  back  to  the  station  in  time  for 
me  to  catch  the  train,  without  another 
word  being  spoken. 

I had  my  foot  on  the  train  step  when  a 
little  man  ran  up  to  me  all  out  of  breath, 
grasped  my  hand,  saying:  “That’s  the  way 
to  do  it ; without  a warrant  they  had  no 
right  to  arrest  you,  but  they  might  have 
done  it  anyway.  I was  running  right  along 
after  you,  however,  and  would  have  had 


you  right  out  if  they  had.  These  fellows 
are  so  used  to  preying  on  one-lungers  that 
they  don’t  seem  to  realize  that  there  are 
men  who  have  the  nerve  to  demand  honest 
treatment.” 

I was  grateful  but  careful  to  say  noth- 
ing that  would  prompt  the  marshal,  who 
was  watching  me  with  an  ugly  scowl,  to 
make  any  move  that  might  make  me  miss 
the  train.  I was  mightily  relieved  when 
we  finally  started. 

Going  back  to  Phoenix  was  like  going 
home.  The  people  welcomed  us  and  we 
made  a little  money  on  the  week,  using 
East  Lynn  and  Sapho  three  nights  each. 
Our  new  advance,  man,  named  Edgar  Rice, 
an  ex-soldier  just  back  from  the  Philip- 
pines, had  cut  the  Mills  hotel  on  account  of 
increase  in  rates  and  engaged  rooms  in  pri- 
vate homes,  arranging  for  us  to  board  at 
“Coffee  Al’s,”  the  best  restaurant  in  town, 
excellent  and  very  expensive.  A1  must  have 
been  feeling  very  liberal  when  he  allowed 
my  advance  man  to  persuade  him  to  agree 
to  board  eleven  actors  three  meals  a day  for 
a dollar  apiece  and  no  restriction  on  or- 
dering. 

At  the  very  first  meal  one  actor  ate  over 
a dollar  and  a quarter’s  worth.  The  wait- 
ers would  give  us  their  check  which  we 
did  not  have  to  present,  and  we  would 
walk  out  leisurely — very  leisurely,  as  we 
were  too  full  for  speed.  Wednesday  even- 
ing as  I was  coming  out  of  the  restaurant, 
after  a very  excellent  dinner,  I noticed  A1 
and  his  partner  in  earnest  conversation. 
As  about  all  the  company  were  in  gorging 
themselves  at  the  time,  I easilv  surmised 
we  were  the  subject  of  the  consultation  and 
so  asked  the  partners  what  the  trouble 
was.  They  denied  there  was  anv  trouble, 
at  first,  but  I was  persistent  and  jokinglv 
accused  them  of  being  afraid  they  would 
not  get  their  money.  My  bill  would  be 
sixtv-six  dollars  at  the  end  of  the  week. 
This  brought  a replv.  “I  want  to  be  a 
good  fellow,”  said  Al.  “but  some  of  your 
women  order  three  kinds  of  dessert.  I 
wouldn’t  kick  if  they  ate  what  they  or- 
dered but  they  only  nibble  at  the  second 
and  third  dessert,  just  enough  to  make  us 
throw  them  out.  Now  pineapple,  for  in- 
stance, comes  a long  wav  and  freights  are 
high.” 

I assured  him  it  would  be  quite  satis- 
factory to  restrict  everyone  to  one  dessert 
and  inquired  if  that  was  all  that  was  wor- 
rying him.  He  reached  behind  his  safe 
and  brought  to  view  a fairlv  good  silver- 
handled  umbrella,  saying,  “Well,  while  we 
are  talking,  I might  mention  that  I had  a 
company  boarding  here  last  year  and  the 
manager,  a man  by  the  name  of  Marsten, 
gave  me  a hard  luck  story  and  this  um- 
brella for  a seventy-five  dollar  board  bill.” 
I eased  their  fears  by  paying  them  thirty- 
three  dollars  for  Monday,  Tuesday  and 
Wednesday,  and  promised  to  pay  eleven 


September 

dollars  at  the  end  of  each  day.  This  pleased 
them  so  much  that  Al  declared  he  didn’t 

give  a how  much  dessert  the  women 

ordered.  We  certainly  lived  well  that 
week. 

On  Thursday  Mowrey  hailed  me  from 
across  the  street.  He  smiled  all  over  as 
he  yelled,  “Good  bye,  Frank;  I’m  going  to 
Los  Angeles  on  the  hog  train,”  and 
laughed  heartily  at  his  own  joke.  I didn’t 
understand  what  he  was  driving  at  and 
asked  him  to  explain.  “I  ride  on  top  of 
the  cars,”  he  said,  “and  have  a long  pole 
with  which  I poke  the  cows  if  they  try  to 
lay  down.  I get  to  Los  Angeles  and  get 
two  dollars  a day  besides.” 

I kind  of  envied  him  as  I was  not  sure 
how  we  were  going  to  get  there.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  he  made  the  trip  O.K.,  and 
landed  with  money  in  his  pocket,  but  if 
he  had  stayed  with  me  and  behaved  him- 
self he  would  have  cut  in  on  quite  a bit  of 
money  in  the  next  few  years.  But  just  at 
that  time  I was  trying  to  figure  a way 
home. 

The  week  in  Phoenix  was  fair — in  com- 
parison to  other  weeks — a little  over  three 
hundred  dollars,  all  mine,  as  rent  and 
lights  were  furnished  by  the  street  car 
company.  They  did  not  give  me  the 
twenty  dollars  bonus,  however,  and  I still 
owed  a balance  on  the  tickets  they  had 
furnished  to  bring  us  from  San  Francisco 
which  I now  paid.  The  railroad  fare  from 
Phoenix  to  Los  Angeles  amounted  to  two 
hundred  and  twenty-five  dollar's.  The 
Santa  Fe  agreed  to  allow  me  to  buy  the 
tickets  on  the  installment  plan,  fifty  dol- 
lars down  at  Phoenix,  fifty  at  Prescott,  our 
next  stop,  fifty  at  Jerome,  fifty  at  Needles 
and  twenty-five  at  San  Bernardino.  I had 
to  let  my  advance  man  have  money  as  we 
would  not  see  him  again  until  we  reached 
San  Bernardino  as  the  intervening  towns 
were  to  be  one  and  two-night  stands,  so 
after  paying  all  bills  and  fifty  on  the  ticket, 
I had  about  sixty  dollars  in  my  pocket. 

As  we  boarded  the  train  for  Prescott 
Joe  stood  by  evidently  hoping  I would 
weaken  and  take  him  along,  but  we  all 
figured  that  he  and  Mowrey  had  jinxed  us 
so  he  was  left  in  Phoenix.  A few  weeks 
later  a circus  struck  town.  Joe  caught  on 
and  he  also  reached  Los  Angeles  long  be- 
fore we  did. 

We  reached  Prescott  O.K.  and  on  the 
way  to  the  hotel  I looked  around,  as  was 
my  habit,  to  see  what  kind  of  a showing 
our  advance  man  had  given  us.  I saw  one 
half  sheet  litho  tacked  on  a fence,  that 
was  all — not  very  encouraging.  Almost 
the  entire  town  had  recently  burned  down. 
About  the  first  thing  we  saw  was  two  solid 
blocks  of  tents  and  every  one  a saloon, 
but  the  theatre  and  one  hotel  and  a few 
stores  were  still  standing. 

As  soon  as  we  were  settled  at  the  hotel 
I looked  up  the  reserved  seat  sale.  It  was 
practically  nil  and  the  clerk’s  statement 
that  the  people  were  not  much  on  reserv- 
ing their  seats  in  advance,  brought  me 


1925 

small  comfort.  As  the  actors  had  drawn 
some  on  the  train,  the  bank  roll  was  now 
just  thirty-five  dollars. 

The  town  showed  no  signs  of  life,  sa- 
loons deserted,  stores  empty  and  hardly 
anyone  on  the  streets,  and  I had  to  pay 
fifty  dollars  on  the  railroad  tickets  before 
we  could  get  on  the  train. 

This  was  the  first  time  I really  felt 
whipped.  I went  back  to  the  hotel  and 
stayed  there  until  show  time,  relying  on 
the  boys  to  get  things  ready.  Even  then  I 
didn’t  go  near  the  front  door  nor  take  the 
trouble  to  get  acquainted  with  the  man- 
ager; told  one  of  the  boys  to  go  on  the 
door  and  let  it  go  at  that.  I put  on  my 
makeup  and  drifted  up  on  the  stage  and, 
as  was  the  custom,  just  before  the  start  of 
the  first  act,  I looked  through  the  peep  hole 
in  the  curtain,  more  from  habit  than  any- 
thing else,  and  was  startled  to  see  a full 
house — a full  house  just  as  I was  ready  to 
tell  the  actors  they  would  have  to  tele- 
graph home  for  money  to  get  out  of  town. 
I called  my  wife  and  allowed  her  to  feast 
her  eyes  on  the  sight. 

Right  away  we  began  to  speculate  on 
the  amount  of  money  out  there.  I thought 
around  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars;  the 
missus  thought  ninety-five  would  be  nearer 
to  it.  We  had  been  charging  twenty-five, 
fifty  and  seventy-five  everywhere  except 
Phoenix  but  I hadn’t  taken  the  trouble  to 
inquire  what  the  prices  were  here. 

The  actors  were  all  on  their  toes  as  this 
was  the  first  crowded  house  w’e  had  seen. 
As  a result  the  show  went  very  well  and 
the  people  were  pleased. 

The  show  over,  I went  out  to  the  box 
office,  made  myself  known  to  the  manager 
and  told  him  I was  ready  to  settle  up.  On 
the  manager’s  desk,  I noticed  a stack  of 
twenty-dollar  pieces  with  some  silver  near 
and  a smaller  pile  of  money  a little  further 
over.  I assumed  this  pile  was  the  night’s 
receipts;  paid  no  attention  to  the  other  pile 
as  I thought  the  stack  of  twenties  was  a 
brass  paper  weight.  So  when  the  manager 
gave  me  a statement  and  pointed  to  what  I 
had  taken  to  be  a brass  paper  weight,  with 
“There’s  yours;  count  it  and  see  if  it  is 
correct,”  I had  hard  work  to  keep  from 
shouting. 

I noticed  by  the  statement  that  our 
prices  were  fifty,  seventy-five  and  one  dol- 
lar, higher  than  we  had  ever  played  to, 
and  the  gross  receipts  for  that  night,  three 
hundred  and  sixty-six  dollars  and  forty 
cents.  My  share  was  sixty-six  and  two- 
thirds  per  cent  of  this.  That  was  the  first 
time  I had  ever  played  on  such  terms  nor 
have  I ever  since — or  two  hundred  and 
forty-four  dollars  and  twenty-five  cents.  I 
controlled  myself  with  much  effort,  signed 
the  house  statement  with  a trembling  hand, 
put  the  money  in  my  pocket,  and  making 
some  foolish  remark  about  Sapho  probably 
doing  better  on  the  next  night,  said  good 
evening  to  him. 

I walked  out  of  his  office  with  much 
dignity  as  if  a good  house  was  only  what  I 


^director 

was  used  to,  but  as  soon  as  the  door  was 
shut  I hurried  to  the  dressing  room  where 
my  wife  was  waiting  for  me  and  nearly 
scared  her  to  death  with  my  bunch  of  gold. 
I guess  she  thought  I had  held  up  a bank. 
We  went  home  feeling  mighty  good  that 
night  and  the  next  day  I paid  a hundred 
dollars  on  the  railroad  tickets,  sent  fifty 
to  Francis  and  Valentine,  the  printers — I 
owed  them  over  a hundred— and  divided 
the  balance  between  the  actors. 

The  second  night  we  played  Sapho  to 
three  hundred  and  eighty-eight  dollars. 
The  manager  was  so  pleased  that  he  coaxed 
me  to  stay  another  night,  really  against  my 
judgment,  as  we  were  due  in  Jerome,  but 
as  I had  failed  to  get  Flagstaff  for  Thurs- 
day and  we  were  due  to  lose  two  days,  I 
allowed  the  fact  that  if  I could  change 
Jerome  to  Thursday,  put  Wednesday  in 
Prescott,  I would  lose  only  one  day,  per- 
suaded me  to  agree.  I called  up  Jerome 
and  the  manager  consented  to  the  change 
but  with  very  poor  grace.  I ought  to  have 
called  the  change  off  right  there,  but 
didn’t. 

We  played  The  Story  of  Inex  for  our 
third  night  in  Prescott  and  as  we  had  no 
real  way  of  reaching  the  public  with  the 
news  of  our  longer  stay,  the  receipts 
dropped  to  fifty-five  dollars  and  the  man- 
ager squealed  like  a hurt  child;  wanted 
me  to  let  him  take  his  expenses  out  and 
give  me  what  would  be  left,  about  ten 
dollars.  I couldn’t  see  it  and  demanded 
my  full  percentage,  which  I finally  re- 
ceived. The  next  morning  we  were  on 
our  way  to  Jerome.  I had  paid  the  bal- 
ance on  the  railroad  tickets,  give*!  the 
actors  a little  more  and  still  had  money  in 
my  pocket. 

I found  the  manager  anything  but  cor- 
dial in  Jerome.  In  fact,  he  would  hardly 
speak  to  me  at  first  and  threatened  not  to 
play  the  show  at  all ; said  there  had  been  a 
two  hundred  and  fifty  dollar  advance  sale 
the  day  before  and  that  we  would  have 
played  to  over  four  hundred  dollars,  but 
now  the  people  were  sore  and  we  wouldn’t 
do  any  business.  He  was  partially  right, 
for  we  only  did  eighty-seven  dollars.  How- 
ever, I didn’t  feel  so  bad ; I had  my  ticket 
clear  to  Los  Angeles  and  two  hundred  dol- 
lars in  my  pocket. 

We  had  to  lose  Friday  night  in  getting 
to  Needles,  our  next  stand.  The  rainy 
season  had  set  in  and  already  there  was  a 
report  out  that  the  Santa  Fe  trains  would 
soon  be  stalled.  This  made  me  a little 
apprehensive  as  Mrs.  Kiplinger,  manager 
of  the  San  Bernardino  Opera  House,  had 
refused  to  play  me  on  a percentage  basis 
and  I had  contracted  to  pay  her  one  hun- 
dred and  seventy-five  dollars  rent  for  her 
theatre  for  one  week,  newspapers,  bill  post- 
ing, etc.,  extra.  To  lose  one  or  two  nights 
would  be  a heart  breaker,  and  when  we 
reached  Needles  we  found  conditions  very 
bad;  no  billing  at  all,  the  town  small  and 
no  life,  although  there  was  plenty  for  me 
before  I got  out.  I conceived  the  idea  of 


Willidm 

Horsley 

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Inc. 


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Boulevard 

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JPV  Mfv-no*.  HlTMU 

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cancelling,  if  possible,  and  thereby  making 
sure  of  reaching  San  Bernardino  in  good 
time  and  starting  some  publicity  that  I 
felt  sure  we  would  need.  I proceeded  at 
once  to  find  Dr.  Booth,  the  manager. 
Someone  directed  me  to  the  Needle's  Eye, 
a newspaper  owned  and  edited  by  Dr. 
Booth,  who,  besides  being  opera  house 
manager  and  newspaper  editor,  was  the 
leading  physician  and  leading  attorney  of 
the  town. 

I met  my  wife  and  two  of  the  girls  of 
the  company  talking  to  a distinguished 
looking  man  of,  I judged,  about  thirty- 
five  years  of  age  and  weighing  around  a 
hundred  and  eighty  pounds.  My  wife  in- 
troduced him  to  me  as  Dr.  Booth.  I im- 
mediately asked  him  what  he  thought  of 
our  prospects  for  the  night.  He  replied, 
“Not  very  bright.” 

I then  inquired  if  he  advised  me  to  stay 
and  show,  or  cancel  and  go  on  to  San 
Bernardino,  to  which  he  replied,  “You’ll 
do  nothing  here,  so  I would  like  to  see 
you  go  on.”  I thanked  him  and  hurried 
to  the  train  and  stopped  the  unloading  of 
our  baggage.  This  accomplished,  I 
rounded  up  the  company,  informed  them 
we  were  going  on  and  saw  them  all  on 
the  train. 

I was  about  to  get  on  myself  when  Dr. 
Booth  stepped  up  and  asked  how  much  I 
would  be  willing  to  stay  and  show  for. 
I replied,  “Forty  dollars  my  share.”  He 
said,  “You  wouldn’t  get  it.” 

I agreed  with  him  and  again  started  to 
board  the  train  when  he  again  stopped  me 
with,  “Very  bad  judgment  has  been  dis- 
played in  this  matter.”  Again  I agreed 
with  him  but  he  seemed  to  be  peeved  and 
detained  me  with,  “By , I mean  you!” 

Once  more  I declared  him  to  be  right. 
“Furthermore,”  he  remarked,  “I  don’t 
think  you  have  acted  like  a gentleman.” 

I naturally  inquired  in  what  way. 

“Well,  I heard  you  were  going  to  slip 
by  us  and  not  stop  at  all.” 

I replied,  “Oh,  I’m  not  accountable  for 
rumors  and  the  best  answer  to  that  is,  I’m 
here  and  would  have  played  even  at  a loss 
if  you  hadn’t  given  me  permission  to  can- 
cel.” 

Now  he  became  nasty:  “You  haven’t 
acted  like  a gentleman  anyhow.” 

I came  right  back:  “I  don’t  see  any 
medals  dangling  from  your  chest  proclaim- 
ing you  to  be  such  a gentleman  either.” 

“Do  you  mean  to  insinuate  that  I’m  not 
a gentleman?” 

“No,  but — ” And  that’s  as  far  as  I 
got  for  the  doctor  swung  one  from  the 
hip. 

It  was  so  unexpected  that  it  look  me 
full  in  the  face  a little  to  the  left  of  my 
big  nose,  luckily,  and  started  his  left  to 
follow,  but  I was  fortunate  enough  to  stop 
him  with  my  own  left,  a quick,  straight 
jab;  then  stepped  in  and  caught  him  with 
a stiff  right  in  the  mouth.  He  went  under 
the  train,  staggered  to  his  feet.  His  lower 
lip  was  split,  vertically,  so  badly  that  his 


teeth  were  showing  and  blood  running  all 
over  his  broad  white  shirt  front. 

As  he  reached  his  feet,  I swung  my  left 
hard  for  his  chin,  but  the  hotel  man,  who 
was  a witness  to  the  whole  proceeding, 
pushed  me  back  by  the  shoulder  just  far 
enough  for  me  to  miss. 

I was  at  once  surrounded  by  a mob  that 
evidently  had  not  seen  the  first  blows 
struck,  had  seen  only  the  doctor  pick  him- 
self up  from  the  ground  with  a cut  lip 
and  bleeding.  They  backed  me  up  against 
the  train  and  called  me  everything  they 
could  think  of,  the  leadership  being  as- 
sumed by  a man  named  Corning,  who  op- 
erated a smelter  in  Needles  and  lived  in 
Los  Angeles.  He  was  closely  seconded  by 
a “rat”  in  overalls. 

Corning  drove  me  against  the  side  of 
the  train  with  a swing  on  my  left  jaw  and 
I was  about  to  get  mine  a-plenty,  with  the 

mob  yelling,  “String  the  up!”  when 

Hamilton  Armour,  an  English  actor,  since 
dead  of  lung  trouble,  the  only  one  of  all 
the  huskies  I had  working  for  me  who  had 
the  nerve  to  try  to  help  me,  jumped  off 
the  train,  and  to  my  side  with  “Hold  on, 
men ; you’re  not  acting  like  Americans. 
I’ve  always  understood  that  Americans  be- 
lieved in  fair  play.  If  you  must  have  a 
fight,  just  step  back  a little,  form  a ring 
and  pick  out  your  best  man;  I’m  sure  he’ll 
take  on  any  one  of  you.” 

I was  desperate  and  figured  a fair  lick- 
ing would  be  a cheap  way  out  of  it,  espe- 
cially as  I had  heard  the  cries  of,  “Get  a 
rope,  let’s  lynch  the  !”  So  I volun- 

teered to  go  any  two  and  asked  for  Corn- 
ing and  the  “rat.”  The  latter  had  been 
prancing  around  waving  his  fists  looking 
for  a chance  to  take  a punch  at  me  with- 
out any  danger  of  a return.  Armour  suc- 
ceeded in  holding  them  off  for  a little  but 
they  wouldn’t  agree  to  a fight  but  wanted 
my  destruction. 

At  this  moment  the  white-haired  con- 
ductor of  our  train  broke  through  the 
crowd  and  grabbed  me  by  the  arm,  with : 
“Here,  you  get  on  that  train!”  I was 
hustled  into  the  car  and  sat  down  by  my 
wife  and  prayed  for  the  train  to  start. 
Just  then  I heard  a rasping  old  voice  cry, 
“You  go  in  there,  arrest  him  and  bring 

him  out,  or  I’ll  go  in  and  kill  the  !” 

I wasn’t  through  yet. 

A tall,  dark  man  with  a drooping  black 
moustache  came  into  the  car  followed  by 
a smaller  man.  They  came  down  the 
aisle  looking  over  the  passengers,  trying  to 
locate  the  man  who  hit  Booth.  I did  the 
best  acting  of  my  life,  looking  around  with 
innocent  curiosity,  as  if  to  see  what  was 
going  on. 

I would  have  gotten  away  with  it,  too, 
as  they  walked  right  by  me,  if  the  old  stiff 
who  had  threatened  to  kill  me  hadn’t  en- 
tered the  car  just  then  and  point  me  out 

with,  “There’s  the  ; arrest  him!” 

The  officers  turned,  picked  me  out  of  the 
seat  and  hustled  me  from  the  train  just  as 
it  started  to  pull  out  for  San  Bernardino. 


I was  whipped,  alone  in  a rotten  town 
with  a mob  at  my  heels  that  still  threat- 
ened violence.  Dr.  Booth  was  right  ahead. 
I called  to  him  to  let  me  off  so  that  I 
might  catch  my  train  which  was  gathering 
way  very  slowly  on  account  of  its  great 
length,  but  he  answered  only  with  a curse 
and  made  a vicious  swing  at  me  that  I was 
lucky  enough  to  catch  with  the  palm  of  my 
right  hand.  The  officers  had  hold  of  me  on 
either  side  and  the  doctor  was  going  to  try 
again,  when  the  finest  looking  young  man  I 
have  ever  seen  stepped  in  between  us  and 
started  Booth  off  with  “Go  home,  Doc!” 
and  to  the  officers,  “This  man  is  under  ar- 
rest and  entitled  to  your  protection.”  To 
which  they  replied,  “Well,  he’s  getting  it.” 

“But  in  a poor  way,”  said  the  man, 

whom  I afterwards  learned  was  named 
Prince,  a graduate  of  Yale  and  an  athlete. 
He  sure  was  rightly  named. 

Well,  they  put  me  in  their  jail,  after 
relieving  me  of  my  bank  roll,  and  some 
jail — one  room  made  out  of  boiler  iron, 
rather  large  as  I remember  it  with  no  win- 
dows, but  rivet  holes  everywhere.  The 
marshal  brought  me  a bucket  of  ice  water 
— it  was  at  least  a hundred  and  twenty  in 
there — and  then  I was  left  alone.  I never 
felt  so  rotten  in  all  my  life. 

I had  been  in  a couple  of  hours,  when 
I heard  steps  approaching.  I thought  it 
was  the  marshal,  but  the  steps  suddenly 
stopped.  My  nerves  were  on  edge  anyway 
and  I imagined  some  one  was  slipping  up 
to  take  a shot  at  me.  I looked  around  for 
some  place  to  hide  but  the  rivet  holes 
seemed  to  command  every  section  of  the 
cell,  so  I sat  on  an  oil  can  near  the  side 
wall  and  waited. 

Presently  a voice  within  a few  inches 
of  my  ear  said,  “Hello.”  I replied  “Hello” 
and  my  visitor  remarked,  “You’re  in  a 
pretty  bad  mess” — to  which  I agreed. 

“Do  you  belong  to  any  secret  order, 
Elks  or  Masons?"  he  asked.  At  that  time 
I did  not  and  so  told  him. 

“That’s  too  bad,”  he  said.  “You  had 
better  ask  for  a change  of  venue  as  you 
would  never  get  a fair  trial  in  this  town. 
Only  today  Dr.  Booth  received  two  hun- 
dred and  twenty  dollars  for  defending  and 
obtaining  an  acquittal  for  a prostitute  who 
was  on  trial  for  selling  liquor  without  a 
license  and  yet  I know  there  was  hardly  a 
man  on  that  jury  who  had  not  had  a drink 
in  her  house. 

“He  was  showing  his  friends  a good 
time  on  that  money  today  and  after  he 
gave  you  permission  to  cancel,  his  crowd 
persuaded  him  to  make  you  stay  and  show 
as  they  wanted  to  see  Sapho.  When  he 
failed  to  get  you  to  stay,  he  evidently 
thought  he  could  knock  you  down  and  that 
you  would  crawl  on  the  train  without  a 
fight  and  he  would  receive  the  plaudits  of 
his  friends. 

“You  can  thank  your  good  fortune  that 
no  one  pulled  a gun  as  that  would  have 
started  things  a-plenty.  You  would  un- 
doubtedly have  been  shot  and  the  Murphy- 


1925 


I X MOTION  nmw 

director 


47 


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Monahan  crowd  would  have  stepped  in,  as 
they  have  been  waiting  all  day  for  Booth 
and  his  friends  to  give  them  an  opening. 

“Now  I’ll  go  up  town  and  see  what  I 
can  do  for  you,  but  I want  you  to  prom- 
ise that  if  you  recognize  my  voice  when 
you  get  out,  don’t  let  on  you  know  me,  as 
I am  so  situated  here  that  I can’t  afford  to 
take  your  part  openly.” 

He  left  me  and  an  hour  later  the  mar- 
shal opened  the  door  and  took  me  out.  He 
did  not  set  me  free,  but  escorted  me  to  a 
Chinese  restaurant  in  a small  side  street 
and  I had  something  to  eat — which  I paid 
for.  From  there  we  went  to  the  hotel,  by 
the  back  way.  I was  locked  in  a room 
with  the  marshal  and  a deputy  outside  the 
door,  seated  with  big  Colt  revolvers  in 
their  laps.  They  were  probably  having  a 
lot  of  fun  with  the  “actor”  but  from  the 
talk  I had  overheard  in  the  restaurant,  I 
figured  the  marshals  feared  the  Booth 
crowd  might  come  after  me  during  the 
night  and  of  course  I was  not  tickled  to 
death  with  the  idea.  I looked  out  of  the 
window  and  calculated  my  chances  of 
making  a getaway  by  means  of  that  exit 
in  case  things  got  warm. 

Sunday  morning  came,  however,  with- 
out event  and  later  in  the  day  I was  in- 
formed that  Dr.  Booth  was  willing  to  let 
me  go  providing  I paid  the  advertising  bill 
of  one  dollar  and  fifty  cents.  That  was 
easy,  so  about  four  o’clock  I was  given 
my  bank  roll,  I paid  the  one-fifty  and  one 
dollar  to  the  hotel  and  was  then  conducted 
out  of  town  by  the  back  way,  put  on  board 
the  caboose  of  a long  freight  train  and 
ordered  to  get  into  a berth  and  cover  up 
with  blankets.  After  what  seemed  to  me 
an  awful  long  wait,  the  train  finally 
started  but  I didn’t  come  from  under  until 
we  were  at  least  twenty  miles  out  of  town. 

I reached  San  Bernardino  about  four- 
thirty  Monday  afternoon,  had  time  to 
shave,  take  a bath  and  get  something  to  eat 
before  going  to  the  show  house.  The  rest 
of  my  people  had  reached  town  Sunday 
morning,  and  theirs  was  the  last  passenger 
train  to  get  through  for  several  days,  and 
if  we  had  played  Needles  the  entire  com- 
pany would  have  had  to  travel  by  freight 
and  arrived  in  San  Bernardino  late  Mon- 
day afternoon  the  same  as  I did.  As  it 
was  the  boys  had  had  time  to  get  out  and 
do  some  advertising,  painting  sidewalks, 
soaping  signs  on  saloon  mirrors  and  hang- 
ing long  banners  in  prominent  places. 

What  a difference  that  night ! The  house 
was  crowded  and  the  audience  enthusias- 
tic. They  even  demanded  a curtain  speech 
of  me  and  laughed  heartily  at  a brief  re- 
cital of  my  troubles  in  Needles.  The  news- 
papers had  two-column  articles  in  story 
form  of  my  run-in  with  Booth.  They 
knew  him  well,  as  he  had  been  sheriff  of 
San  Bernardino  county  for  years. 

Our  opening  went  around  two  hundred 
dollars,  prices  now  the  old  ten,  twenty  and 
thirty  scale,  and  stayed  good  all  the  week, 
totaling  over  twelve  hundred  for  the  six 


nights  and  one  matinee.  Mrs.  Kiplinger 
was  not  in  the  best  of  humor  as  she  figured 
out  where  she  lost  over  three  hundred  dol- 
lars by  not  playing  me  on  the  regular  60- 
40  basis  for  shows  of  my  kind. 

We  were  due  in  Riverside  the  following 
week  but  President  McKinley  died  just 
then  and  Frank  Miller,  the  manager,  can- 
celed and  draped  his  theatre  in  mourning. 
We  put  the  week  in  in  Ontario  and  Colton 
to  indifferent  business. 

We  were  to  show  in  Redlands  after  Col- 
ton and  as  the  soldier  advance  man  was 
quitting,  I pressed  one  of  the  actors  into 
service  sending  him  to  Santa  Ana  Sunday 
morning  to  do  the  billing  for  a three-night 
stand  to  follow  Redlands  while  I would 
bill  Pomona,  where  we  were  due  after 
Santa  Ana.  We  both  had  to  be  in  Red- 
lands for  the  show  Monday  night.  I fin- 
ished in  Pomona  without  trouble  but  the 
actor  advance  man  got  drunk,  failed  to 
reach  Redlands  in  time  to  show  and  some- 
one had  to  read  his  part.  I thought  this 
would  kill  the  week,  but  it  didn’t;  in  fact, 
we  did  more  business  than  the  following 
year  with  a better  show  and  better  plays. 

Santa  Ana  and  Pomona  also  showed  a 
little  profit.  Then  we  played  John  C. 
Fisher’s  theatre  in  San  Diego  for  a week, 
opening  in  The  Butterflies,  John  Drew’s 
successful  comedy,  to  a good  house  and 
pleasing  the  people.  One  of  the  papers 
headed  their  review  of  the  show  next  morn- 
ing with — The  Butterflies  as  Played 
by  John  Drew — Only  Different — and 
attempted  to  be  humorous,  but  we  did 
over  twelve  hundred  on  the  week  and 
pleased  particularly  well  in  Sapho.  Frank 
Bacon  had  been  there  with  his  show  play- 
ing Sapho  and  charging  more  money,  but 
according  to  the  papers,  we  gave  the  best 
performance.  I was  paying  salaries  now 
and  things  looked  good. 

(To  be  Continued ) 


WHY  HOLLYWOOD? 

(Continued  from  Page  17) 

can  be  transplanted  to  the  Pacific  Coast. 

It  is  being  done  constantly.  Recently, 
for  instance,  on  the  United  lot  was  cre- 
ated an  exact  counterpart  of  Gramercy 
Square,  not  as  it  is  today,  but  as  it  was 
in  the  period  in  which  the  story  was  laid. 

True  enough,  there  are  mammoth  stu- 
dios in  and  around  New  York,  humming 
with  production  activity,  equipped  with  all 
the  latest  and  most  modern  devices.  It  is 
a fact  that  we  no  longer  need  to  depend 


Take  my  advice: 

Subscribe  for 

THE  DIRECTOR 

William  Bill 


1925 


49 


f -V  Mono*  n«  TVM 

director 


on  Old  Sol  for  light — the  greatest  reason 
why  we  first  migrated  to  California — and 
use  electricity  to  achieve  effects  which  can 
be  and  are  used  in  any  studio,  no  matter 
what  its  location,  working  conditions  or 
climate;  so  that,  insofar  as  interiors  are 
concerned,  pictures  can  be  produced  in  New 
York  or  elsewhere  with  the  same  ease  as 
in  Hollywood,  but — 

Where,  outside  of  Hollywood,  is  the 
“locational  atmosphere”  so  readily  avail- 
able here?  Where  are  the  mountains  with- 
in a few  hours’  ride — real  mountains  with 
serrated  peaks  and  snow  lines,  with  big 
timber  and  rushing  streams;  mountains  of 
volcanic  formation  with  their  deep  ravines 
and  boulder-strewn  canyons?  Where  is 
the  sea — the  mighty  rolling  Pacific  with 
its  long  stretches  of  beach,  its  dunes  and 
rocky  shores — its  Lagunas  and  Montereys? 
And  where  is  the  desert — the  real  Ameri- 
can desert  with  its  sagebrush  and  its  mes- 
quite — where  are  the  plains;  where  are 
the  complete  range  of  climatic  possibilities 
from  the  snows  of  the  arctics  to  the  jungles 
of  the  tropics? 

Why,  in  a few  hours  from  Hollywood 
and  at  little  cost  we  may  reach  “atmos- 
phere” which,  in  other  centers  where  pic- 
tures are  made,  would  require  huge  expen- 
ditures and  the  loss  of  from  five  days  to 
two  months  in  time. 

In  Hollywood  the  producer  has  at  his 
instant  disposal  the  four  quarters  of  the 
earth:  Alaska,  the  East,  the  West,  Flor- 

ida— even  with  her  Everglades — China, 
Japan,  Africa,  India,  the  South  Seas! 

Can  New  York,  Florida  or  Europe  of- 
fer these? 

My  experience  has  taught  me  that  they 
cannot. 

DURING  the  time  that  I was  in 
Florida  I found  it  extremely  diffi- 
cult to  make  anything  but  pictures 
which  dealt  with  Florida  atmosphere.  I 
cannot  see  where  Florida  can  compare  in 
any  measure  with  Hollywood  for  conveni- 
ence in  picture  making,  no  matter  what 
the  locale  of  the  story,  nor  in  the  matter 
of  equipage  and  facilities. 

Similarly  in  Europe,  I found  that  I 
could  have  secured  in  Hollywood  at  much 
less  trouble,  and  saving  in  time  and  pro- 
duction costs,  what  I achieved  there  at  a 
tremendous  outlay  of  cash. 

For,  in  addition  to  its  “locational  atmos- 
phere,” Hollywood  has  developed  the  nec- 
essary accessories  to  motion  picture  produc- 
tion. There  are  in  Hollywood  more  than 
forty  thousand  people  engaged  in  motion 
picture  activity,  people  who  have  been  es- 
pecially trained  in  their  own  particular 
fields  and  who  have  become  specialists  in 
their  lines ; men  and  women  whose  lives 
have  been  devoted  to  the  creation  of  enter- 
tainment features. 

Here  is  an  army  of  actors,  actresses,  di- 
rectors, technical  aids,  carpenters,  plaster- 
ers, painters,  artists,  architects,  film  chem- 
ists, cutters,  editors  and  who  and  what  not, 


all  scientifically  trained.  At  a moment’s 
notice  it  is  possible  to  procure  character 
types  representing  practically  every  race  on 
this  planet,  singly  or  in  groups  of  mob 
proportions. 

Say  what  we  like  about  the  extras,  they 
constitute  a very  important  adjunct  to  mo- 
tion picture  production.  Here  they  are 
available  in  seemingly  unlimited  numbers 
and  all  of  them  have  had  that  basis  of 
screen  experience  which  insures  proper 
make-up  and  performance  before  the  cam- 
era. Insignificant  as  this  item  may  seem 
to  be,  it  is  one  of  the  contributor  factors 
which  adds  immeasurably  to  the  weight  of 
Hollywood’s  claim  to  genuine  superiority 
over  all  other  centers. 

EVERY  now  and  then  there  comes  a 
fresh  outburst  of  talk  concerning  the 
migration  of  motion  picture  compa- 
nies away  from  Hollywood — to  Eastern 
cities  or  to  foreign  shores — and  I suppose 
that  such  outbursts  will  continue  for  many 
months  to  come.  But  such  talk  can  be, 
in  my  opinion,  but  wasted  “gas”  and  idle 
conversation. 

There  is  too  much  money  invested  in 
Hollywood  to  permit  of  any  wholesale 
migration. 

Millions  upon  millions  are  invested  in 
studio  property,  in  real  estate  and  in 
equipment.  Through  the  years  there  have 
been  accumulated  in  Hollywood,  in  the 
prop  rooms  and  on  studio  lots,  equipment, 
props,  accessories  and  paraphernalia  of  ev- 
ery nature,  most  of  which  have  in  them- 
selves a value  out  of  all  proportion  to  their 
intrinsic  worth. 

And  millions  of  dollars  are  invested  by 
the  players,  and  people  engaged  in  the  busi- 
ness of  making  pictures,  in  homes  and  per- 
sonal property,  too  much  by  far  ever  to 
think  that  they  would  move  bag  and  bag- 
gage to  some  other  location.  And  inciden- 
tally these  people  are  vitally  necessary  to 
the  successful  production  of  motion  pic- 
tures. 

So,  it  is  my  sincere  belief  that  Holly- 
wood will  never  lose  the  movies,  and  that 
it  is  the  most  suitable  place  for  me  to  ply 
my  profession — the  making  of  motion  pic- 
tures for  entertainment  purposes. 

There  is  no  other  place  like  it. 

Editor’s  Note:  Mr.  Carewe’s  article  is  the 

first  of  a series  of  articles  on  the  general  sub- 
ject, “Why  Hollywood?”  In  succeeding  issues 
the  views  of  other  directors  and  producers  will 
be  presented,  not  as  a prejudiced  refutation  of 
foreign  propaganda,  but  as  a frank  discussion 
of  an  interesting  and  important  subject. 


Washburn  and  Crosby  have  proclaimed 
for  years,  “Eventually,  why  not  now?” 
Well,  why  not?  THE  DIRECTOR  will 
appear  just  as  interesting  and  a whole  lot 
more  regularly  if  you  have  us  mail  it  to  you 
each  month. 


Advertising  is  the  merchant’s  way  of 
placing  before  you  interesting  facts  concern- 
ing the  products  he  has  bought  for  your  use. 
Read  the  advertisements  in  THE  DIREC- 
TOR for  their  messages  to  you. 


You  Fellows 
Got  My 
Invitations 
Didn’t  You? 

—HENRY  BERGMAN 

¥ 

HENRY’S 

Rotisserie  & Delicatessen 
Caterers 

ROAST  CHICKENS,  SQUABS 
AND  TURKEYS 

6325  Hollywood  Blvd. 
GLadstone  9803 


Burton  Steene 

A.  S.  C. 

Cinematographer 

A k e l e y Camera — 
Aerial  and  special  pho- 
tography; American  and 
European  Experience  in 
Eastern  and  Continental 
Studios. 

Bell  & Howell  Equip- 
ment complete  for  stu- 
dio work. 

Studio  or  Foreign  cine- 
matography. Passports 
always  on  hand. 

Akeley  Camera 

SPECIALIST 

HEmpstead  1191 

or  American  Society 
of  Cinematographers 

GRanite  4274 


50 


f.  MOTTO"*  ru  UM 

director 


September 


Still  Going  Strong 


OUR  years  ago  we  had  but  one  Drug  Store, 
and  today  we  are  Hollywood’s  largest  retail 
druggists  with  five  up-to-the-minute  stores. 


That  Progress  is  based  upon  our  patrons’ 
confidence. 

Each  shareholder  of  KRESS  DRUG  Co.  stock 
has  gained,  and  in  order  that  the  KRESS  DRUG 
Co.  may  ably  take  care  of  it’s  increased  busi- 
ness and  install  more  of  these  dividend  making 
stores,  there  is  being  offered  you  8 °fc  Preferred 
Accumulative  Stock  that  in  the  full  sense  of 
the  word  is  a “ Safe  and  Sound  Investment ” 


HOLLYWOOD  FINANCE  CO. 

fiscal  agents 


SECURITY  BANK  BUILDING 
GR.  1156 


192  5 


51 


director 


THE  NIGHT  BRIDE 

(Continued  from  Page  29) 


of  her  years  of  service  in  the  banker’s 
employ,  handed  him  the  morning  paper 
with  a sort  of  thrust;  as  if  she  held  a 
lance  in  her  hand  and  was  jabbing  at  the 
editor  who  dared  bandy  the  name  of  Walsh 
so  lightly. 

He  snatched  the  paper  from  her  and 
read  the  article  through  to  the  last  word. 
His  face  purpled.  With  a smothered  curse, 
he  kicked  over  his  chair,  slammed  the  paper 
to  the  floor  and  strode  from  the  room,  a 
string  of  maledictions  spewing  from  his 
lips. 

When  Walsh’s  violent  temper  was 
aroused,  his  reasoning  powers  failed  to 
function.  He  had  an  appointment  with 
Cynthia  in  thirty  minutes.  They  were 
going  to  motor  over  to  the  city  and  attend 
the  races. 

He  would  kill  two  birds  with  one  stone. 

His  greeting  of  Cynthia  was  cordial,  but 
there  was  a grim  undertone  to  his  manner 
that  drew  a sharp  look  from  her. 

“I  want  to  stop  at  the  Warrington  place 
a moment,  if  you  don’t  mind,”  he  said 
jerkily,  as  he  slammed  the  door  of  the  car 
shut  and  slumped  down  beside  her.  Their 
conversation  was  desultory,  for  Walsh  was 
in  a murderous  mood. 

Cynthia  observed  the  spires  of  the  castle 
loom  up  before  her  with  mixed  feelings. 
Somehow,  she  felt  thrilled  with  pleasure 
in  the  hopes  of  seeing  the  young  Ogre 
again.  Angrily,  she  tried  to  act  indiffer- 
ent. She  knew  she  wanted  to  see  him — 
and  yet  she  didn’t.  She  was  glad — and 
she  was  mad — good  and  mad,  at  herself. 

The  car  glided  up  the  driveway  and  came 
to  a stop  at  Walsh’s  signal.  It  was  Cyn- 
thia’s first  glimpse  of  the  castle  grounds 
from  the  inside. 

The  marvel  of  its  beauty  held  her  spell- 
bound. 

Hector  let  out  a series  of  yelps  and 
tugged  frantically  at  his  chain.  He  recog- 
nized his  arch  enemy,  the  man  who  tried 
to  shoot  him. 

Biggies  hurried  out  of  the  garage  and 
saw  the  intruders.  What?  That  girl 
here  again?  He’d  see  about  this. 

Over  on  the  tennis  courts,  a set  of  triple 
horizontal  bars  had  been  erected.  A heavy 
padding  lay  stretched  out  beneath  them. 
Stanley,  attired  in  athletic  shirt  and  white 
duck  trousers,  was  engaged  at  that  moment 
in  balancing  himself  on  one  of  the  bars 
head  downward.  Swinging  in  a graceful 
curve,  he  flung  his  body  through  the  air, 
caught  the  next  bar,  circled  again,  catch- 
ing the  third  bar;  then,  circling  once  more, 
he  let  go,  twisted  into  a somersault  and 
landed  lightly  on  his  feet.  Cynthia  and 
Walsh  stared  at  this  stunt  in  amazement. 

Biggies  came  hobbling  over  to  inform  his 
master  they  had  guests.  Seeing  who  it 
was,  Stanley  nodded,  and  started  towards 
the  car,  a frown  of  displeasure  on  his  face. 

The  seething  banker  got  out  and  planted 


his  feet  firmly  on  the  ground.  It  was 
more  to  his  dignity  that  Warrington  come 
to  him.  Had  his  common  sense  been 
working — even  on  half  time,  he  would 
have  carried  this  quarrel  far  away  from 
Cynthia’s  sight  and  hearing.  But  his  wits 
had  flown  in  fear  of  the  consuming  fires 
of  his  rage. 

Cynthia  watched  the  young  Ogre  ap- 
proaching. She  could  not  help  but  notice 
the  rippling  muscles  of  the  athlete,  the 
smooth  tanned  skin  and  graceful  swing  of 
his  carriage. 

Young  Warrington  gave  Cynthia  her 
usual,  casual  nod,  looked  the  banker  over 
cooly,  and  waited  for  the  first  gun  to  be 
fired. 

“I  want  to  know,”  boomed  Walsh  as 
he  shook  his  finger  close  to  Stanley’s  nose, 
“By  what  right  you  indict  me  in  your 
filthy  sheet  on  subjects  you  know  nothing 
about.” 

Stanley’s  nose  swayed  sideways  in  syn- 
chronous precision  with  the  fat,  pudgy  fin- 
ger of  the  banker.  It  caught  his  fancy  to 
anticipate  each  stop  of  the  accusing  digit. 
A momentary  gurgle  from  the  girl  in  the 
car,  brought  Walsh  to  imagine  that  perhaps 
this  looked  funny.  He  lowered  his  hand. 

“The  article  explains  itself,”  said  War- 
rington, his  cool,  gray  eyes  darting  sparks 
of  joy,  in  the  prospects  of  another  joust 
with  this  trucculant  antagonist. 

It  was  the  first  time  Cynthia  had  seen 
him  without  his  goggles. 

“This  isn’t  the  first  time  you  have  held 
me  up  to  ridicule,”  the  irate  man  was 
saying.  His  chest  was  heaving  like  a bel- 
lows, and  his  words  came  in  belabored 
puffs.  “At  first  I attributed  it  to  the 
brain  of  a weakling,  but  there’s  a limit  to 
everything — and  I warn  you,  it’s  got  to 
stop.  In  this  last  article  you  practically 
call  me  a thief.” 

“If  the  shoe  fits,  wear  it,”  Stanley  sug- 
gested, without  the  slightest  sign  of  ran- 
cor. “I  think  you’re  as  crooked  as  a 
ram’s  horn,  and  I think  I have  evidence 
to  prove  it.  As  my  paper  will  continue 
to  analyze  your  public  deals  in  print,  I’m 
curious  to  know  how  you’re  going  to  stop 
it.” 

If  the  fuming  financier’s  body  had  ex- 
ploded into  bits,  Cynthia  would  not  have 
been  surprised. 

Stanley’s  calm  and  half-cynical  treat- 
ment of  the  whole  affair  was  in  marked 
contrast  to  the  violent  display  of  Walsh’s 
temper.  It  recalled  to  Cynthia  that  old 
adage,  “He  who  holdeth  his  temper,  win- 
neth  the  fight.”  “Somehow,”  she  thought, 
“When  these  two  lock  horns,  Addison 
always  loses  caste.”  It  annoyed  her  exceed- 
ingly. 

The  thunder  of  her  fiance’s  voice  broke 
her  reverie. 

“I’ll  tell  you  how  I’m  going  to  stop  it,” 
he  shouted,  a froth  of  apoplexy  sliming 


his  lips.  “I’m  going  to  horsewhip  you  if 
it  happens  again,  until  your  hide  will  look 
like  a zebra’s — and  don’t  think  I can’t 
do  it.” 

The  culprit’s  eyebrows  arched  in  mock 
surprise.  He  deliberately  bowed,  as  if 
bending  to  the  yoke  of  his  adversary’s  ulti- 
matum. 

“Morituri,  te  salutatus,”  he  quoted  in  all 
humility. 

“We,  who  are  about  to  die,  salute  thee.” 
To  Walsh  it  sounded  like  a camouflaged 
string  of  epithets. 

For  a moment,  Cynthia  feared  her 
friend  was  going  to  end  the  interview  in 
a brawl,  but  a grimness  in  Stanley’s  glare 
restrained  him.  Growling  something 
about,  “we’ll  see,”  he  climbed  into  the  car. 

Stanley”s  eyes  met  those  of  Cynthia’s. 
In  them,  she  read  an  unspoken  message, 
easily  translated. 

“Congratulations,”  they  seemed  to  say, 
“on  your  choice  of  a husband.” 

Cynthia’s  cheeks  flamed.  Was  it  in 
anger — or  humiliation  ? 

When  the  car  had  regained  the  highway, 
an  ominous  silence  pervaded,  as  the  grim 
truth  came  to  her.  She  was  affianced  to  a 
fat,  flabby,  irritable  man,  with  brutal  ten- 
dencies and  a vile  temper. 

On  the  seat  beside  her  Walsh  simmered, 
like  a tea  kettle,  after  the  fire  has  been 
turned  down.  But  it  had  not  as  yet  oc- 
curred to  him,  that  he  had  slipped  on  the 
top  rung  of  his  ladder  of  romance,  and 
hit  the  ground  with  a dull  and  sickening 
thud.  (To  Be  Continued) 


— Catering  to  the  Elite 
Efficiently! 

NOW  CREATING  THE 
WARDROBE  FOR 

Lillian  Gish  in 
“LA  BOHEME” 

and 

Frank  Lloyd’s 
“THE  SPLENDID  ROAD” 

— and  the  same  service  we  give 
to  the  stars,  producers  & theatres 
we  give  to  YOU. 

Hollywood 

COSTUMING  CO. 

6004  Hollywood  Blvd. 

GLADSTONE  0362 

“Costumes  by  Israel” 


52 


1~N  t MOTTO*  run’s! 

director 


September 


New  Pictures  in  the  Making 


DIRECTOR 

STUDIO 

PRODUCTION 

STAR 

SCENARIST 

STATUS 

fohn  G.  Adolfi 

California 

Pals 

Wm.  Russell 

Jules  Furthman 

Cutting 

Del  Andrews 

F.B.O. 

Riding  the  Wind 

Fred  Thomson 

Marion  Jackson 

Cutting 

King  Baggott 

United 

Tumbleweed 

Bill  Hart 

Shooting 

Reginald  Barker 

Fox 

When  the  Door  Opened 

All-star 

Bradley  King 

Shooting 

Harold  Beaudine 

Christie 

Comedy 

Bobby  Vernon 

Hal  Conklin 

Shooting 

William  Beaudine 

Pickford  Fairbanks 

Scraps 

Mary  Pickford 

Winifred  Dunn 

Preparing 

Paul  Bern 

Paramount 

Flower  of  Night 

Pola  Negri 

Willis  Goldbeck 

Cutting 

J.  Stuart  Blackton 

Warner  Bros. 

Gilded  Highway 

All-star 

Marian  Constance 

Cutting 

Herbert  Blache 

Universal 

Chip  of  the  Flying-U 

Hoot  Gibson 

Schayer-Lee 

Finishing 

King  Baxter 

Fine  Arts 

Laughing  Whirlwind 

Roy  Hughes 

L.  V.  Jefferson 

Preparing 

Lloyd  Bacon 

Sennett 

Untitled 

Ralph  Graves 

Staff 

Shooting 

Charles  Brabin 

Universal 

Sweet  Rosie  O’Grady 

Mary  Philbin 

Brabin-Scully 

Preparing 

Clarence  Brown 

United 

Lone  Eagle 

Rudolph  Valentino 

Hans  Kraely 

Shooting 

H.  J.  Brown 

California 

Windjammer 

Billy  Sullivan 

Henry  Symonds 

Preparing 

Tom  Buckingham 

Waldorf 

Ladies  of  Leisure 

Elaine  Hammerstein 

Tom  Hopkins 

Preparing 

Edwin  Carewe 

United 

Joanna  with  a Million 

Dorothy  Mackaill 

Preparing 

Horace  B.  Carpenter 

Berwilia 

Burnin’  ’Em  Up 

Bill  Patton-Dorothy 

Donald 

Shooting 

William  Craft 

Independent 

Lightning  Strikes 

Lightnin’ 

Wyndham  Gittings 

Finishing 

Eddie  F.  Cline 

M.G.M. 

Old  Clothes 

Jackie  Coogan 

Shooting 

Wm.  C.  Crinley 

Universal 

Radio  Detective 

William  Desmond 

Staff 

Shooting 

Allan  Crosland 

Warner  Bros. 

Compromise 

Irene  Rich 

E.  J.  Lowe,  J r. 

Cutting 

James  Cruze 

Paramount 

The  Pony  Express 

Compson-Cortez 

Forman- Woods 

Shooting 

Irving  Cummings 

United 

Caesar’s  Wife 

Corinne  Griffith 

A.  F.  Levine 

Preparing 

Wm.  H.  Curren 

California 

Merchant  of  Weenice 

Delaney-Phillips 

H.  G.  Witwer 

Cutting 

Cecil  B.  DeMille 

DeMille 

Road  to  Yesterday 

All-star 

Macpherson-Dix 

Shooting 

William  DeMille 

Paramount 

New  Brooms 

Feature  Cast 

Clara  Beranger 

Shooting 

Roy  Del  Ruth 

Warner  Bros. 

Broken  Hearts 

All-star 

Darral  F.  Zannuck 

Preparing 

Wm.  De  Vonde 

Thos.  C.  Regan 

The  Backwash 

All-star 

Bill  Bailee 

Shooting 

J.  Francis  Dillon 

United 

We  Moderns 

Colleen  Moore 

June  Mathis 

Shooting 

Robert  Dillon 

California 

The  Flame  Fighter 

Rawlinson 

Dillon 

Shooting 

Denver  Dixon 

Berwilia 

Untitled 

Bob  Roberts 

Staff 

Preparing 

Harry  Edwards 

Sennett 

Comedy 

Harry  Langdon 

Staff 

Shooting 

Victor  Fleming 

Paramount 

Lord  Jim 

Percy  Marmont 

Geo.  C.  Hull 

Cutting 

Tom  Forman 

Hollywood 

The  People  vs.  Nancy 

All-star 

Marion  Orth 

Cutting 

Preston 

John  Considine,  Jr. 

Sidney  A.  Franklin 

United 

Paris  After  Dark 

Norma  Talmadge 

Preparing 

Emmett  Flynn 

Fox 

The  Conquistador 

Tom  Mix 

Cutting 

Francis  Ford 

Universal 

Winking  Idol 

Wm.  Desmond 

Cutting 

John  Ford 

Fox 

Three  Bad  Men 

All-star 

Tom  Hopkins 

On  Location 

Sven  Gade 

Universal 

Wives  for  Rent 

All-star 

Shooting 

Tony  Gaudio 

Waldorf 

Sealed  Lips 

Dorothy  Reviere 

Rob  Wagner 

Shooting 

Harry  Garson 

F.B.O. 

Heads  Up 

Lefty  Flynn 

John  Goodrich 

Shooting 

Louis  Gasnier 

F.B.O. 

The  Other  Woman’s 
Story 

All-star 

Staff 

Shooting 

Arvid  Gilstrom 

Educational 

Untitled 

Staff 

Shooting 

John  Gorman 

Independent 

A Prince  of  Broadway 

George  Walsh 

Cutting 

Alf  Goulding 

Sennett 

Untitled 

Alice  Day 

Eve  Unsell 

Shooting 

Arthur  Gregor 

Independent 

Count  of  Luxemburg 

All-star 

Staff 

Preparing 

Alfred  E.  Green 

United 

Spanish  Sunlight 

Stone-LaMarr 

Staff 

Preparing 

Wm.  Goodrich 

Educational 

Comedy 

Lloyd  Hamilton 

Whittaker-Doty 

Shooting 

Fred  Guiol 

Hal  Roach 

Comedy 

Glenn  T ryon 

Staff 

Shooting 

Alan  Hale 

DeMille 

The  Wedding  Song 

Leatrice  Joy 

Edmund  Goulding 

Cutting 

James  W.  Horne 

Hal  Roach 

Comedy 

Lucien  Littlefield 

Preparing 

W.  K.  Howard 

Paramount 

Martinique 

Bebe  Daniels 

J.  G.  Alexander 

Shooting 

John  E.  Ince 

California 

The  Great  Adventure 

Rawlinson-Darmond 

Cutting 

Ralph  Ince 

Marshall  Neilan 

The  Sea  Wolf 

Viola  Dana 

Hal  Roach 

Cutting 

Fred  Jackman 

Hal  Roach 

Thunderfoot 

Rex 

Emilie  Johnson 

Shooting 

Emory  Johnson 

F.B.O. 

The  Last  Edition 

Ralph  Lewis 

Shooting 

Daniel  Keefe 

Fox 

The  Hypotheis  of 

All-star 

Shooting 

Failure 

Will  Lambert 

Erie  Kenton 

Warner  Bros. 

The  White  Chief 

All-star 

Preparing 

George  Jeske 

California 

Account  of  Monte  Cristo 

Delaney-Phillips 

H.  C.  Witwer 

Cutting 

Burton  King 

Selig 

Counsel  for  the  Defense 

All-star 

Shooting 

Henry  King 

United 

Potash  and  Perlmutter 

Carr-Sidney 

Shooting 

1925 director 53 


DIRECTOR 

STUDIO 

PRODUCTION 

STAR 

SCENARIST 

STATUS 

Charles  Lamont 

Educational 

Untitled 

Chris  Bowes 

Shooting 

Rowland  V.  Lee 

Fox 

Silver  Treasure 

All-star 

R.  V.  Lee 

Cutting 

Robert  Z.  Leonard 

M.G.M. 

A Little  Bit  of  Broad- 
way 

All-star 

Jesse  Burns 

Preparing 

Stan  Laurel 

Hal  Roach 

Comedy 

Clyde  Cook 

Staff 

Cutting 

Frank  Lloyd 

United 

The  Splendid  Road 

All-star 

J.  G.  Hawks 

Shooting 

Ernest  Lubitsch 

Warner  Bros. 

Lady  Windermere’s  Fan 

Irene  Rich 

Shooting 

Wilfred  Lucas 

F.B.O. 

El  Pasado 

All-star 

Sullivan-Lucas 

Cutting 

Edward  Luddy 

California 

Last  of  the  Mohicans 

All-star 

H.  C.  Witwer 

Cutting 

J.  P.  McGowan 

California 

Silver  Fingers 

George  Larkin 

McGowan 

Shooting 

Robert  McGowan 

Hal  Roach 

Comedy 

Our  Gang 

Staff 

Shooting 

Leo  McCarey 

Hal  Roach 

Untitled 

Charles  Chase 

Staff 

Shooting 

Henry  McRae 

Universal 

Strings  of  Steel 

All-star 

Morgan-Goodin 

Preparing 

Leo  Maloney 

Goodwill 

Win,  Lose  or  Draw 

Leo  Maloney 

Ford  Beebe 

Shooting 

George  Melford 

Hollywood 

Simon  the  Jester 

All-star 

Francis  Marion 

Shooting 

Lewis  Milestone 

Warner  Bros. 

Untitled 

Matt  Moore 

Preparing 

Bruce  Mitchell 

California 

Speed  Madness 

Frank  Merrill 

Wm.  Wing 

Shooting 

Warren  Milais 

Fine  Arts 

Up  in  the  Air 

All-star 

Eline  Wilmont 

Shooting 

Edmund  Mortimer 

Hollywood 

The  Man  from  Red 
Gulch 

Harry  Carey 

Harvey  Gates 

Shooting 

Vin  Moore 

Universal 

Ike’s  Holiday 

Holmes-Corbett 

Moore-McKenzie 

Shooting 

Zion  Myers 

Universal 

Sweet  Sixteen 

Arthur  Lake 

Chas.  Diltz 

Preparing 

Lax  Neal 

United 

Go  West 

Buster  Keaton 

Shooting 

Marshall  Neilan 

M.G.M. 

The  Great  Love 

All-star 

Benjamin  Glazer 

Shooting 

Jack  Nelson 

F.B.O. 

Prince  of  Pep 

Richard  Talmadge 

Jas.  Bell  Smith 

Preparing 

Fred  Niblo 

M.G.M. 

Ben  Hur 

All-star 

Finishing 

Fred  Newmeyer 
Henry  W.  Otto 

F.B.O. 

Fox 

Seven  Keys  to  Baldpate 
Rhyme  of  the  Ancient 
Mariner 

Douglas  Maclean 
Paul  Panzer 

Staff 

Shooting 

A1  Parker 

Pickford-Fairbanks 

The  Black  Pirate 

Doug  Fairbanks 

Staff 

Preparing 

Stuart  Paton 

Hollywood 

Through  Veiled  Eyes 

All-star 

Payton- Alexander 

Preparing 

Harry  Pollard 

Universal 

Two  Blocks  Away 

All-star 

Preparing 

Paul  Powell 

F.B.O. 

North  Star 

Strongheart 

Chas.  Horan 

Shooting 

Albert  Ray 

Fox 

Helen  and  Warren 

Perry-Cooley 

Kathryn  Carr 

Shooting 

T.  J.  Ray 

California 

The  Young  American 

All-star 

Staff 

Preparing 

Curt  Rehfield 

United 

Viennese  Medley 

All-star 

June  Mathis 

Shooting 

Steve  Roberts 

Educational 

Untitled 

Al  St.  John 

Staff 

Shooting 

Jess  Robbins 

Educational 

Comedy 

Lupino  Lane 

Staff 

Shooting 

Wesley  Ruggles 

F.B.O. 

The  Plastic  Age 

Clara  Bow 

Unsell-Sagor 

Finishing 

AI  Rogell 

Universal 

Deadwood  Dick 

Jack  Hoxie 

Harvey  Thaw 

Shooting 

Nat  Ross 
Al  Santell 

F.B.O. 

Transcontinental 

Limited 

Not  Selected 

Casting 

Edward  Sedgwick 

Universal 

On  the  Frontier 

Hoot  Gibson 

Chas.  Kenyon 

On  Location 

Chas.  R.  Seeling 

California 

Untitled 

All-star 

Seeling 

Preparing 

George  B.  Seitz 

Paramount 

Vanishing  Americans 
What  Happened  to 

All-star 

Reginald  Denny 

Ethel  Dougherty 

Cutting 

William  A.  Seiter 

Universal 

Jones 

Marion  Nixon 

Geo.  Broadhurst 

Shooting 

Forrest  Sheldon 

Goodwill 

Untitled 

Bruce  Gordon 

Sheldon 

Shooting 

H.  Scott  Sidney 

Christie 

Madame  Lucy 

Julian  Eltinge 

F.  McGrew  Willis 

Finishing 

Edward  Sloman 

Universal 

His  People 

•■a  11/11"! 

Finishing 

Noel  Smith 

Warner  Bros. 

Clash  of  the  Wolves 

Rin-TJn-Tin 

Charles  Logue 

Finishing 

Paul  Sloan 

DeMille 

Braveheart 

Rod  La  Rocque 

Preparing 

John  M.  Stahl 

M.G.M. 

Memory  Lane 

All-star 

Benjamin  Glazer 

Shooting 

Edward  Sutherland 

Paramount 

On  Dress  Parade 

Raymond  Griffith 

Keene  Thompson 

Shooting 

Jerome  Storm 

Charles  Ray 

Sweet  Adeline 

Charles  Ray 

Chas.  E.  Banks 

Cutting 

Jack  Strayer 

Waldorf 

The  Lure  of  the  Wild 

Jane  Novak 

Finishing 

Hunt  Stromberg 

Hollywood 

The  Last  Frontier 

All-star 

Harvey  Gates 

Preparing 

Wm.  Stroubach 

California 

Untitled 

Johnny  St.  Clair 

Staff 

Shooting 

Slim  Summerville 

Universal 

Comedy 

Neely  Edwards 

Chas.  Diltz 

Shooting 

Sam  Taylor 

Hollywood 

Untitled 

Harold  Lloyd 

Staff 

Shooting 

Norman  Taurog 

Educational 

Untitled 

Lige  Conley 

Eddie  Moran 

Shooting 

King  Vidor 

M.G.M. 

La  Boheme 

Lillian  Gish 

Edmund  Goulding 

Preparing 

Josef  von  Sternberg 

M.G.M. 

The  Masked  Bride 

Mae  Murray 

Carey  Wilson 

Shooting 

Eric  von  Stroheim 

United 

East  of  the  Setting  Sun 

Constance  Talmadge 

Von  Stroheim 

Preparing 

Raoul  Walsh 

Paramount 

The  Lucky  Lady 

Feature  Cast 

James  O’Donohoe 

Cutting 

William  Watson 

Christie 

Comedy 

Jimmie  Adams 

Shooting 

Millard  Webb 

Warner  Bros. 

The  Sea  Beast 

John  Barrymore 

Bess  Meredith 

Shooting 

C.  Richard  Wallace 

Universal 

Comedy 

Neeley  Edwards 

Marcel  Perez 

Preparing 

Irvin  Willat 

Paramount 

Ancient  Highway 

Jack  Holt 

James  Hamilton 

Cutting 

K.  E.  Williamson 

Selig 

The  Feud  Woman 

Mary  Carr 

L.  V.  Jefferson 

Shooting 

Ceder  Wilkinson 
W.  Wyler 

F.B.O. 

Universal 

Mazie  Series 

The  Fighting  Barrier 

Vaughn-Kent 

Lewell  Martin 

Shooting 

Preparing 

James  Young 

Independent 

The  Bells 

Lionel  Barrymore 

Young 

Preparing 

54 


T~V  MOTXW  Wl  H1U 

©irector 


September 


BOOK  REVIEWS 


1 

I T ISN’T  POSSIBLE 

* * * 

WITH  OUR  PRESENT  EQUIP- 
MENT 

* * * 

TO  DO  ALL  THE  LAUNDRY 

* * * 

IN  HOLLYWOOD 

* * * 

SO  WE’RE  SATISFIED 

* * * 

FOR  THE  PRESENT 

* * 

TO  SPECIALIZE 

* * * 

ON  THE  SHARE  WE  GET 

* * * 

BUT  WE  WISH  TO  REMIND 
YOU 

* # * 

THAT  IT’S  ALWAYS  POSSIBLE 


TO  DO  A LITTLE  BIT  MORE 

* * * 

AND  IN  THE  COURSE 

* * * 

OF  A NATURAL  GROWTH 

* * * 

WE’LL  SPECIALIZE 

* * * 

ON  THE  “LITTLE  BIT  MORE” 

* * * 

FOR  AFTER  ALL 

* * * 

WE’RE  SPECIALISTS  ANY- 
WAY— 

* * * 

THAT’S  PROGRESS! 


COMMUNITY 

LAUNDRY 

1001  McCadden  PI.  HOlly  2538 


Glamour:  Essays  on  the  Art  of  the 
Theatre,  by  Stark  Young.  Scribners, 

$2.00  net. 

A VOLUME  of  keen  imagination  and 
banal  stupidity,  of  sound  criticism 
and  silly  slush,  this  collection  ranks 
in  literary  value  far  below  Mr.  Young’s 
Three  Fountains , which  was  one  of  the 
most  refreshing  and  stimulating  folios  of 
essays  published  last  year.  However,  one 
cannot  expect  too  much  of  any  book  which 
begins  by  extending  “thanks  for  permis- 
sion to  reprint”  to  no  less  than  six  period- 
icals, ranging  in  diversity  from  the  business- 
like New  York  Times  to  the  precious 
Theatre  Arts  Monthly. 

The  total  value  of  Glamour  is  not  the 
sum  of  its  five  parts,  of  which  the  first, 
“Visitors”,  chronicles  the  reactions  of  the 
author  to  the  New  York  performances  of 
Eleanora  Duse,  Cecile  Sorel,  and  the  Mos- 
cow Art  Theatre.  Out  of  the  twenty 
nine  pages  allotted  to  Madame  Duse, 
some  twenty-five  are  devoted  to  the  frank- 
est heroine  worship.  Overwhelmed  by 
his  subject,  the  essayist  celebrates  her  by 
prostration  and  prayer.  The  remaining 
few  paragraphs  attempt  an  interpretation 
of  an  art  which  seems  to  have  been  the 
outward  manifestation  of  a truly  Biblical 
grace.  The  body  of  this  art  is  dissected  by 
the  critical  scalpel  of  reason,  and  the 
surgical  investigation  fails,  of  course,  to 
reveal  its  soul. 

Madame  Sorel  is  set  down  as  a clothes 
horse;  and  Mr.  Young  makes  the  startling 
discovery  that  the  Anglo-Saxon  does  not 
relish  French  comedy.  He  also  stumbles 
upon  the  fact  that  there  are  enforced  upon 
the  theatre  certain  artificial  conventions, 
and  shares  his  innocent  surprise  with  the 
reader. 

He  is  at  first  disappointed  by  the  Mos- 
cow Art  Theatre,  dissatisfied  with  the 
naturalism  of  The  Czar  Feodor,  and  lays 
down  the  law  that  historical  fare  must  be 
served  in  the  grand  romantic  manner. 
One  surmises  that  he  considered  Shaw’s 
delightful  Caesar  and  Cleopatra  a particu- 
larly flat  failure.  Chekhov’s  Cherry  Or- 
chard, a play  more  to  his  taste,  leaves  him 
raphsodizing  that  the  Russian  visitors  are 
“forever  right  and  fine.” 

Under  the  heading  of  “The  Prompt 
Book”  a series  of  short  essays  point  the 
actor’s  path  to  perfection  and  teach  him 
how  to  climb.  The  ideas  in  this  section 
are  too  sound  and  valuable  to  be  startling, 
and  too  eternal  to  master  at  a glance. 
While  to  many  of  us  they  will  seem  re- 
discoveries of  familiar  aesthetic  shores, 
they  differ  from  Mr.  Young’s  theatrical 
impressions  in  that  they  are  discoveries  and 
not  inventions.  Truth  itself  lends  their 
air  of  veracity.  Written  in  a nervously 
technical  prose  (which  descends  now  and 
then  to  the  level  of  the  classroom  lecture), 


they  will  be  understood  and  appreciated  by 
only  the  more  literate  of  our  Hollywood 
actors.  To  such  I commend,  with  few 
reservations,  “The  Prompt  Book.” 

In  the  third  and  lengthiest  part  of  the 
volume,  “Letters  from  Dead  Actors”,  each 
immortal  writes  from  the  grave  to  scold  or 
reprimand  some  living  performer  whose 
parts  are  in  his  own  tradition.  Mr. 
Young’s  mediumship  is  unworthy  of  his 
ghosts,  who  are  too  patronizing,  too  boast- 
ful for  good  taste.  Realizing  the  absence 
of  an  essential  ingredient,  our  author  at- 
tempts to  astound  us  by  the  depth  and 
diversity  of  his  learning.  A vast  number 
of  critical  allusions  lead  one  to  suspect  that 
this  portion  of  the  work  was  written  in 
the  reference  room  of  the  New  York  Pub- 
lic Library. 

Most  addressed  to  the  present  reader  is 
the  fourth  section,  “The  Art  of  Directing.” 
Our  authority  finds  truly  that  the  art  of 
directing  lies  between  two  extremes — one 
the  subjection  of  the  play  to  the  director’s 
personality,  the  other  the  subjugation  of 
the  director  to  the  author’s  idea.  Whether 
your  work  is  patterned  after  that  of  Cecil 
B.  or  William  C.,  this  section  will  bear 
reading  for  its  re-statement  of  familiar 
problems  and  its  discursive  glances  into  the 
unknown. 

The  writer  draws  a novel  parallel  be- 
tween the  stage  director  and  orchestra  con- 
ductor, and  sees  in  the  contrapuntal  changes 
of  physical  action  and  dramatic  point  a 
theory  of  stage  direction  as  the  conducting 
of  a visual  music  addressed  to  the  eye. 

Although  the  first  requirement  for  photo- 
graphing Mr.  Young’s  theories  of  direc- 
tion would  be  such  perfect  working  con- 
ditions as  the  screen  has  never  known,  his 
ideas  seem  often  sound  and  valuble.  The 
man  who  is  doing  “costume  stuff”  will 
find  many  of  his  difficulties  reduced  to 
simplicity  by  the  keenly  sensible  discussion 
on  the  difference  between  empty  form  and 
pulsating  life. 

At  the  end  of  one  paragraph  a perfect 
phrase  unexpectedly  sums  up  the  aim  of 
all  direction:  “to  engage  the  audience’s  at- 
tention with  its  constantly  fresh  vitality  and 
surprise.” 

In  the  last  section,  “Sophocles’  Guest,” 
we  travel  with  an  imaginary  young  Amer- 
ican to  witness  the  revival  of  Oedipus  Rex 
in  an  equally  imaginary  Greece.  At  the 
end  of  thirty  pages  we  learn  that  this  im- 
possible feat  has  been  performed  to  teach 
us  that  American  and  Greek  cannot  be 
reduced  to  an  intellectual  common  denomi- 
nator. As  the  lesson  has  nothing  to  do 
with  our  theatre,  it  might  as  well  have 
been  learned  in  any  library  or  at  any 
peanut  stand. 

Considering  Mr.  Young’s  startlingly 
uneven  book  as  a whole,  Glamour  shows 
him  at  his  best  as  a theorist  and  at  his 


1925 


1 MOTIOH  MIUM 

director 


55 


worst  as  a journalist.  In  form  as  well  as 
in  matter,  his  reporting  and  correspondence 
are  juvenile  when  compared  to  his  aesthetic 
and  technical  criticisms.  Even  these  are 
marred  by  a pedantry,  a gratuitous  exhibi- 
tion of  the  Young  culture  when  it  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  case,  which  makes 
the  temptation  to  prick  a few  of  his  bub- 
bles irresistable. 

For  his  prose,  invigoratingly  pure  in  its 
finest  passages,  is  inexcusably  slovenly  in 
its  worst.  There  are  such  locutions  as 
“People  were  numerous  who  objected.” 
The  rambling  inconsequence  of  “When 
you  know  well  the  Greek  marbles  in  the 
Naples  museum — but  in  the  north  you 
meet,  etc.,”  is  exceeded  in  affectation  only 
by  the  baffling  beginning  “It  was  as  well 
that  the  visitor  to  these  shores  from  Paris 
should  be  Madame  Cecile  Sorel.”  And  it 
seems  comic  that  so  stylistic  a poet  as 
Francis  Thompson  should  be  misquoted  by 
so  precious  a stylist  as  Stark  Young. 

John  Francis  Natteford. 


The  Motion  Picture  Industry 

(Continued  from  Page  34) 
Indictment That  fellow’s  got  a wonder- 
ful imagination — he  thinks  that  everyone 
in  the  game  must  be  a Director. 

Al 

Did  you  ever  ask  him  why  he  does  it  ? 

Jim 

Sure.  We’ve  gone  to  his  place  and  asked 
him  to  give  us  a square  deal.  Over  and 
over  again  he  tells  us  that  he’s  sorry — the 
mistake  won’t  happen  again — and  before 
we  reach  the  sidewalk  he  stops  the  presses 
and  inserts  on  the  front  page  in  larger  let- 
ters, “Prominent  DIRECTORS  Try  to 
Bribe  This  Paper!”  He’s  a cuckoo! 

ScAREHEAD 

Well,  Boys,  glad  to  have  had  such  a so- 
ciable time.  Anything  I can  do  you  for — 
I mean  do  for  you — you  know — call  on 
me  j Everybody 

(With  meaning  emphasis) 

Good-bye ! 

(Scarehead  exits , well  satisfied  with 
himself) 

Al 

I’ll  never  read  a newspaper  again. 

Jim 

What  paper  do  you  read  ? 

Al 

None.  I don’t  know  how.  But  I listen 
to  the  Radio.  Roy 

(At  the  Heart  table) 

There  goes  my  last  million  dollars!  A 
motion  for  adjournment  is  now  in  order. 

Joe 

In  conclusion  I -would  like  to  say:  The 
Spirit  of  Fraternalism  that  permeates  the 
atmosphere.  Al 

He’s  stealing  the  other  fellow’s  stuff. 

Jim 

They  all  do  it.  It’s  a privilege  of  the 
order. 

(They  all  sing  The  M.P.D.A.  Chorus 
as  The  Curtain  Falls.) 


You  Can 

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56 


September 


Talking  It  Over 

(Continued  from  Page  2) 
of  players,  their  matrimonial  status  or  sim- 
ilar queries  of  a distinctly  “fan”  nature, 
but  simply  specializes  on  subjects  more  in 
character  with  the  publication  as  a whole. 

ANOTHER  new  feature  and  one  that 
. we  hope  will  prove  of  general  interest 
to  all  our  readers  is  the  department  de- 
voted to  Angle  Shots  Around  Holly- 
wood Studios.  Here  each  month  will  be 
presented  short  paragraphs  touching  on  the 
activities  of  studio  folk,  items  of  personal 
interest  about  everyone  concerned  with  the 
making  of  films.  Other  departments  of 
similar  nature  are  also  being  planned  with 
a view  to  making  The  Director  of  great- 
er interest  both  to  the  men  and  women  ac- 
tually engaged  in  the  making  of  pictures 
and  to  the  host  of  folk  throughout  the 
country  who  are  genuinely  interested  in 
the  production  side  of  the  “movies.” 

AS  A matter  of  interest  to  both  studio 
folk  and  those  far  afield,  The  Di- 
rector introduces  this  month  a chart  of 
studio  activity  showing  the  status  and  pro- 
gress of  production.  Under  the  heading 
New  Pictures  in  the  Making  a month  to 
month  record  of  directorial  activity  will 
be  published  in  each  succeeding  issue.  For 


t ~\  motion  ruruu 

director 

the  present,  at  least,  this  record  will  be 
confined  to  the  activities  of  those  directors 
who  are  actually  producing  in  Hollywood 
studios,  or  are  on  location  from  Holly- 
wood. Because  of  the  difficulty  in  getting 
accurate  and  timely  reports  on  the  activi- 
ties of  directors  who  are  producing  in 
Eastern  studios  or  are  engaged  in  making 
pictures  in  foreign  locales  no  attempt  will 
be  made  to  record  the  progress  of  that 
work. 

SO  MUCH  for  this  issue.  We  hope 
that  you  will  like  it  and  that  you  will 
find  it  thoroughly  entertaining — perhaps 
.really  helpful.  Your  comments  will  be 
gratefully  appreciated  and  constructive 
criticism  designed  to  help  us  in  making 
The  Director  a bigger  and  better  maga- 
zine is  always  welcome ; for  after  all  this 
is  your  publication  and  unless  we  run  it  in 
such  a manner  as  to  make  it  genuinely 
pleasing  to  you,  we  have  failed  in  the 
responsibility  we  bear  toward  our  readers. 

Next  month  The  Director  will  con- 
tain many  features  of  interest.  There  will 
be  the  departments  already  described,  ad- 
ditional installments  of  Frank  Cooley’s 
narrative,  The  Barnstormer,  and  the  two 
serials  now  running,  Thundering  Silence 
and  The  Night  Bride,  and  another  article 
in  the  Why  Hollywood?  series. 


Bertram  A.  Holiday,  who  discusses  the 
question  Can  They  Come  Back?  in  the 
current  issue,  has  written  for  The  Di- 
rector a discussion  of  the  costume  picture 
as  a box  office  attraction,  and  analyzes  some 
new  slants  on  this  problem  which  has  con- 
cerned the  production  world  since  the  early 
days  of  film  activity. 


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EASTMAN 
NEGATIVE  FILM 

At  Kodak  Park  every  precaution 
known  to  the  world’s  largest  manu- 
facturers of  film  is  exercised  so  that 
Eastman  Negative  Film  makes  the 
most  of  the  director’s  art  and  the 
cinematographer’s  skill.  The  expe- 
rience of  Eastman  experts  is  your 
safeguard. 


Eastman  Film  is  identified  in  the 
margin  by  the  black-lettered  words 
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EASTMAN  KODAK  COMPANY 

ROCHESTER,  N.  Y. 


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Leatrice 

Joy 

finds  the  preparation 
of 

ST.  CLAIRE’S 

Perfect 

MAKE-UP 

as  interesting  to  watch 
...  as  she  has  found 
this  triumph  over  or- 
dinary grease  paint 
satisfactory  to  use. 


A New  Principle  in  Make-up/ 


.VFTER  five  years  of  intensive  experimenting  and  re- 
r\  search  in  the  principles  of  cosmetic  science,  there  has 
been  developed  in  St.  Claire’s  Perfect  Make-Up 
a single  cosmetic  that  has  proved  to  be  a literal  triumph 
over  cold  cream,  face  powder  and  grease  paint,  and  that 
achieves  the  distinct  advantage  of  cutting  the  time  necessary 
for  application  from  forty-five  minutes  to  five. 

Where  ordinary  grease  paint  has  a contracting  effect  upon 
the  surface  muscles  of  the  face,  directly  under  the  skin,  and 
when  dry  imparts  a degree  of  stiffness  that  limits  expression, 
this  new  triumph  of  make-up  art  leaves  the  facial  muscles 
free  to  obey  the  will  of  the  artist. 


Once  applied — and  it  takes  but  five  minutes  when  one 
becomes  accustomed  to  its  use — it  will  remain  impervious 
to  wind,  water,  dust,  heat,  perspiration  or  wind-blown  sand. 
At  the  end  of  the  day’s  work,  even  though  that  extends  far 
into  the  night,  your  make-up  is  as  fresh  and  distinctive  as 
when  first  applied. 

St.  Claire’s  Perfect  Make-Up  is  no  longer  an  experi- 
ment but  a proven  cosmetic  that  has  been  tried  and  tested 
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HARRY  L*  SEIGELMAN  LABORATORIES 


412  Taft  Bullding 


Hollywood 


MOTION  PICTURE 


].  Stuart  Blackton 

Editor 


Bernard  A.  Holway 

Managing  Editor 


Dedicated  to  the  Creation  of  a Better  Understanding  Between  Those 
Who  Make  and  Those  Who  See  Motion  Pictures 


IT  is  with  a sincere  feeling  of  sympathy  and  regret  that  the 
management  of  The  Motion  Picture  Director  is  called 
upon  to  announce  the  resignation  of  George  L.  Sargent, 
founder  of  the  magazine  as  the  official  publication  of  the  Motion 
Picture  Directors’  Association  and  its  editor  during  the  first  year 
of  its  existence.  For  the  past 
several  months  Mr.  Sargent’s 
eyes  have  been  giving  him  in- 
creasing trouble,  and  while  that 
condition  is  considered  only  tem- 
porary and  largely  due  to  a ner 


Vol.z.  No.  4 


CONTENTS 


who  are  entertained  by  the  products  of  the  industry — and  to  the 
frank  discussion  by  readers  and  contributors  of  features  of  screen 
production  which  are  of  interest  to  both. 

In  a sense  The  Motion  Picture  Director  is  blazing  a new 
trail,  and  asks  the  constructive  aid  of  its  readers  both  within  the 

field  of  motion  picture  produc- 
tion and  exhibition  and  without. 
Nov.  1925  No  publication  belongs  to  itself 
but  to  those  whom  it  serves. 


King  Vidor  ( Photo  by  Ruth  Harriet  Louise)  Cover 


vous  affliction  of  the  eye  muscles, 
a complete  rest  has  been  deemed 
necessary. 

MUCH  as  we  regret  the  cir- 
cumstances attending  Mr. 

Sargent’s  resignation,  it  is  with 
pardonable  and  justifiable  pride 
that  the  management  announces 
the  advent  of  J.  Stuart  Blackton 
as  editor-in-chief  of  the  publica- 
tion. Mr.  Blackton  is  particu- 
larly fitted  for  the  editorial  chair 
of  such  a magazine  as  The 
Motion  Picture  Director.  As 
the  founder  and  organizer  of 
Vitagraph  he  is  one  of  the  pio- 
neer producer-directors  of  the 
motion  picture  industry  and  has 
since  its  earliest  days  been  one  of 
its  foremost  exponents.  Now 
that  Vitagraph  has  become  a unit 
of  Warner  Brothers  production 
program,  Commodore  Blackton 
continues  his  production  and  di- 
rectorial activities  in  association 
with  that  enterprise. 

In  addition  to  his  long  years 
of  experience  in  motion  picture 
production,  Commodore  Black- 
ton also  brings  to  The  Direc- 
tor definite  publication  experi- 
ence as  founder  and  early  advisor 
of  the  Brewster  Publications, 
publishing  Motion  Picture  Mag- 
azine and  The  Motion  Picture 
Classic. 

With  J.  Stuart  Blackton  as 
its  editorial  head  The  Director 
is  definitely  launched  on  a pro- 
gram of  activity  which  has  as  its 

purpose  the  creation  of  a better  understanding  between  those  who 
make  and  those  who  see  motion  pictures.  In  the  furtherance  of 
that  purpose  its  columns  shall  be  devoted  to  the  discussion  of 
interesting  phases  of  motion  picture  production  activity — phases 
which  are  of  concern  both  to  those  within  the  industry  and  those 


J.  Stuart  Blackton 


In  the  Director’s  Chair 

Screen  Personalities  

Directing  Harold  Lloyd  . . . Sam  Taylor 

Why  Hollywood? Robert  Vignola 

KFWB  Norman  Manning 

Custom  vs.  Costume  . . Bertram  A.  Holiday 

New  Stories Albert  LeVino 

The  Man  on  the  Cover 

The  Big  Parade 

The  Night  Bride  (A  Serial) 

The  Screen  Club  .... 

Grown-Ups  and  the  Serial 

William  Lord  W right 
Bill  Hart . Adam  Hull  Shirk 


Robert  M.  Finch 
. Frederic  Chapin 
Harry  D.  Wilson 


Sid  Grauman 
Frank  Cooley 


3 

7 

13 

15 

17 

19 

23 

25 

30 

33 

34 

35 

36 
38 

41 


I 


Motives  and  Motifs  . . . 

The  Barnstormer  (Part  III) 

Directorial  Briefs  . . . 

Off  Screen  Personalities 42 

Angle  Shots 45 

Slants  on  Exploitation  The  Boulevard  Reporter  47 

The  Directory 49 

Wampas  Doin’s A.  Wampa  51 

What  the  Directors  Are  Doing 

Charley  Chase  Turns  to  Acting  Edith  Ryan 

Getting  the  Third  Dimension 

FOCUS Wilfrid  North 

The  Wasps Edith  Ryan 


N no  way  may  the  purpose  of 
the  magazine  be  more  effectu- 
ally accomplished  than  by  serv- 
ing as  a medium  for  the  inter- 
change of  ideas  between  those 
who  make  motion  pictures  and 
those  who  see.  Published  in  the 
heart  of  the  film  center  of  the 
world,  by  men  who  are  actively 
engaged  in  the  production  of 
screen  entertainment,  for  those 
engaged  in  motion  picture  activ- 
ity as  well  as  for  those  who  con- 
stitute the  theatre-going  public 
of  this  country,  we  believe  that 
The  Motion  Picture  Direc- 
tor is  peculiarly  suited  to  that 
purpose. 

But,  while  we  who  are  a part 
of  the  industry  are  in  a position 
to  present  to  you  who  see  pic- 
tures subjects  pertaining  to  the 
production  side  of  that  industry, 
your  ideas  can  only  be  expressed 
by  you.  It  is  vital  to  the  future 
of  motion  pictures  that,  as  out- 
lined by  Commodore  Blackton  in 
this  issue,  we  receive  from  you 
expressions  of  your  likes  and  dis- 
likes. Write  us  frankly  and 
freely  about  the  pictures  you  see. 
Tell  us  what  you  have  liked  and 
what  you  have  not  liked.  Tell 
us,  and  through  us,  the  motion 
picture  industry  of  which  we  are 
a part,  the  kind  of  pictures  you 
would  like  to  see.  Help  us  to 
make  The  Director  a meeting 
place  for  the  frank  discussion  of 
ideas.  And  tell  us  too  about  the 
magazine.  By  so  doing  you  will 
aid  us  in  making  your  publica- 
tion of  greater  interest  and  value  to  you.  Tell  us  what  depart- 
ments you  would  like  to  see  introduced,  what  new  features  devel- 
oped and  how  you  like  the  departments  and  features  in  the  cur- 
rent issues.  But  above  all  else  write  us  frankly  about  the  pictures 
you  see  and  the  pictures  you  would  like  to  see. 


52 

55 

58 

61 

64 


Published  Monthly  by  The  Director  Publishing  Corporation,  1925  Wilcox  Avenue,  Hollywood,  Calif.  J.  Stuart  Blackton,  president;  Frank 
Cooley,  secretary  and  treasurer;  Richmond  Wharton,  business  manager,  J.  Stuart  Blackton,"  editor ; Bernard  A.  Holway,  managing  editor.’  Single 
copies  25  cents,  yearly  subscription,  $2.50. 

Entered  as  second  class  matter,  October  1,  1925,  at  the  postoffice  in  Los  Angeles,  California,  under  the  Act  of  March  3,  1879. 

PRINTED  IN  U.S.A. 


2 


T^V  MOTION  WCTIW 

©irector 


November 


1801  LARCHMONT  AV£- 

CHICAGO. 


NEW  YORK 


~ULH 


MAKES  MOVIES  AS  THE  EYE  SEES 


THE  NEW  STANDARD  AUTOMATIC 

« 

Professional  Motion  Picture  Gamera 


Veil  rr  e II,  Nmber  4 


November,  1925 


7/z  the  Directors  Ghair 


Taxation  Without  Representation 

IT  is  exceedingly  doubtful  whether  the  average  American  real- 
izes how  completely  motion  pictures  have  become  an  integral 
part  of  the  daily  life  of  the  nation  and  it  would  be  interesting 
to  know  what  would  happen  if,  without  warning,  there  should 
suddenly  be  issued  a ukase  against  the  theatre,  banning  motion 
pictures  and  kindred  entertainment  in  every  city,  village  and  ham- 
let in  the  country. 

Fortunately  we  are  not  living  in  Russia  where  such  things  are 
not  only  possible,  but  where  such  a ukase  was  actually  issued  and, 
for  a time  at  least,  all  theatrical  entertainment  of  any  sort  was 
completely  forbidden.  And  yet  it  is  typical  of  the  American 
public  that  only  by  some  such  dictatorial  assumption  of  authority 
or  mandatory  prohibition  of  what  has  been  conceived  as  constitut- 
ing an  item  of  personal  priviledge  are  the  one  hundred  and  ten 
millions  who  constitute  the  American  people  to  be  galvanized 
into  action. 

The  “movies”  have  become  accepted  so  universally  that  the 
average  American  either  accepts  complacently  and  as  a matter 
of  course  the  screen  entertainment  that  is  offered  him,  or  else  rants 
and  raves  and  threatens  to  withdraw  his  patronage  when  the 
production  doesn’t  suit.  Has  it  ever  occurred  to  him  that  he  has 
a part  to  play,  that  upon  him  devolves  some  measure  of  responsi- 
bility for  the  sort  of  entertainment  he  receives? 

And  yet  one  of  the  most  vital  questions  confronting  the  motion 
picture  industry  today  is  “What  sort  of  pictures  does  the  public 
want  ?” 

The  whole  future  of  motion  pictures  depends  to  a marked 
degree  upon  arriving  with  some  degree  of  accuracy  at  an  answer 
to  that  question. 

At  present  practically  the  only  source  of  guidance  that  the 
industry  has  to  the  type  of  pictures  desired  comes  from  the  exhibi- 
tor and  the  distributor.  If  a picture  doesn’t  bring  the  returns  that 
the  exhibitor  or  distributor  expects,  whether  it  is  the  fault  of  the 
picture,  of  the  advertising  or  attributable  to  economic  conditions 


existing  at  the  time,  that  production  is  thoroughly  “panned”  and 
the  producer  turns  desperately  toward  the  development  of  sure- 
fire box  office  angles  that  will  insure  box  office  success  for  his 
productions.  And  he  cannot  wholly  be  blamed  for  that  attitude; 
for  the  production  of  motion  pictures  is  a business  venture  with 
him.  He  puts  in  dollars  that  more  dollars  may  come  out.  Every 
picture  produced  is  a gamble,  who  can  blame  him  if  he  seeks  to 
modify  the  gamble  by  injecting  a sure-thing  element? 

The  director,  on  the  other  hand,  the  man  who  actually  makes 
the  picture,  is  concerned  primarily  with  making  a production  that 
will  be  a credit  to  his  artistry,  that  will  please  his  patrons  and 
thereby,  because  he  has  created  satisfied  customers  for  his  product, 
insure  for  the  producer  adequate  return  for  the  investment  made. 
To  the  director  the  question  of  what  the  public  wants  is  of  para- 
mount importance.  He  sincerely  and  earnestly  desires  to  know 
what  kind  of  pictures  will  please  that  he  may  bend  every  effort 
toward  shaping  and  fashioning  his  work  to  that  end. 

Because  of  the  power  and  the  magnitude  of  the  industry,  and 
its  importance  in  the  every  day  life  of  the  nation — it  is  vital  to 
the  future  development  of  the  industry  that  the  men  who  are 
directly  responsible  for  the  making  of  pictures  should  know  from 
the  public  just  what  kind  of  entertainment  that  public  really 
wants. 

Since  the  signing  of  the  Magna  Charta  the  voice  of  the  people 
has  guided  the  affairs  of  English-speaking  countries.  Indepen- 
dence of  the  thirteen  colonies  was  established  on  the  premise  of 
government  of  the  people,  by  the  people,  and  for  the  people.  The 
War  of  the  American  Revolution  wTas  predicated  on  the  principle 
that  “Taxation  without  representation  is  tyranny.” 

Have  the  American  people  now  foisted  upon  themselves  “taxa- 
tion” at  the  box  office  without  representation  in  the  Film  Capital 
of  the  Nation? 

The  Motion  Picture  Director  has  been  dedicated  to  cre- 
ating a closer  understanding  between  those  who  make  and 
those  who  see  motion  pictures.  We  believe  that  the  purpose  of 
this  magazine  can  be  achieved  with  no  greater  effectiveness  than  by 


4 


N ovember 


©irector 


serving  as  a medium  for  the  presentation  of  the  likes  and  dislikes 
of  the  theatre-going  public  to  the  industry  of  which  this  publica- 
tion is  a part.  Through  its  columns  thpse  who  see  may  find 
expression  to  those  who  make,  and,  by  stating  frankly  what  kind 
of  pictures  they  really  want,  thus  secure  in  the  Film  Capital  of 
the  Motion  World  that  representation  which  is  their  inalienable 
right. 

Write  to  The  Director  your  views  on  current  productions. 
Tell  us  and  through  us  the  motion  picture  industry  as  a whole, 
what  you  have  liked  and  why,  and  what  you  have  not  liked  and 
why.  Just  one  letter  from  one  individual  won’t  achieve  the  re- 
sult but  many  letters  will.  It  is  the  purpose  of  The  Director 
to  make  it  possible  for  the  lay  public,  the  men  and  women  who 
are  the  support  of  motion  pictures,  to  have  a voice  in  the  guidance 
of  the  industry.  Will  you  take  advantage  of  that  opportunity? 
Will  you  write  us  freely  and  frankly  telling  us  just  what  you 
think?  Will  you  work  with  us  toward  the  end  of  developing 
the  one  hundred  percent  entertainment  that  is  the  goal  of  the 
industry? 

For  instance,  we  have  learned  one  fundamental  truth  concern- 
ing the  likes  and  dislikes  of  the  American  people — their  preference 
for  the  happy  ending.  With  this  as  a starting  point  every  direc- 
tor, every  producer  and  every  author  versed  in  the  technique  of 
the  screen  endeavors  to  shape  the  screen  story  logically  and  natur- 
ally to  that  finis.  And  we  believe  that  we  have  learned  why  the 
American  people  like  the  happy  ending.  Having  learned  why  we 
are  then  in  a position  intelligently  to  .create  entertainment  features 
which,  in  that  respect,  at  least,  we  know  are  sure  to  find  favor 
with  the  public.  Because  we  do  know  why  we  know  just  how  far 
we  can  deviate  from  this  fundamental  law  of  motion  pictures  and 
still  produce  pleasing  entertainment. 

But  there  are  other  elements  which  go  into  the  building  of 
screen  entertainment  and  it  is  about  these  other  factors  that  we 
urge  you  to  write  The  Director,  giving  frank  expression  to  your 
views  on  current  screen  production.  Tell  us  frankly  just  what 
you  like  and  what  you  don’t  like,  remembering  that  The  Direc- 
tor is  published  by  those  who  make  for  those  who  see  motion  pic- 
tures and  that  in  writing  to  The  Director  you  are  actually 
writing  to  the  motion  picture  industry  of  which  it  is  a part,  that 
your  letters  will  be  seen  and  read  by  the  men  who  are  making 
pictures  and  who  are  vitally  concerned  with  learning  from  you 
your  likes  and  dislikes. 

The  Director  offers  you  an  opportunity  to  free  yourself  from 
the  burden  of  “taxation  without  representation”  by  registering 
your  vote  for  the  type  of  screen  productions  you  wish,  not  at  the 
box  office,  but  directly  to  your  representatives  in  the  Film  Capital. 

Plagiarism 

r'l'^HE  publicity  given  the  decision  rendered  by  Judge  Samuel 
H.  Sibley  of  the  United  States  Court  in  Atlanta,  Ga.,  in 
the  case  of  Mrs.  Mattie  Thomas  Thompson  against  Cecil 
B.  DeMille,  Famous  Players-Lasky  Corporation  and  Jeanie  Mac- 
pherson,  charging  plagiarism  in  the  production  of  the  DeMille 
feature,  The  Ten  Commandments,  together  with  the  method  of 
reasoning  whereby  Judge  Sibley  reached  his  decision  that  Mrs. 
Thompson  had  failed  to  establish  her  case,  should  do  much  to- 


ward correcting  what  has  long  been  a serious  problem  in  the  pro- 
duction world. 

Plagiarism  has  been  a constantly  growing  bugaboo  which  has 
increased  in  magnitude  in  direct  proportion  to  the  increase  in  the 
popularity  of  the  screen  and  the  growth  of  the  industry.  There 
has  been  a growing  tendency  on  the  part  of  producers  to  close 
their  doors  entirely  to  the  original  screen  story  created  by  outside 
writers  solely  because  of  this  fact,  and  to  turn  their  attention  more 
and  more  exclusively  to  the  adaptation  of  published  books  or  suc- 
cessful stage  plays  to  which  screen  rights  may  be  purchased  with 
reasonable  security.  The  recently  announced  stand  of  the  Cecil 
DeMille  studio  on  this  subject,  in  which  it  was  announced  that 
in  the  future  all  unsolicited  manuscripts  submitted  would  be  re- 
turned to  the  sender  unopened,  is  a significant  illustration. 

Conscious  and  deliberate  plagiarism  on  the  part  of  motion  pic- 
ture producers — entirely  aside  from  the  moral  and  ethical  issues 
involved — is  so  obviously  the  worst  kind  of  business  that  one  is 
constrained  to  wonder  why  there  should  ever  have  arisen  the 
accusation  of  story  piracy.  No  producer  who  has  any  hope  of 
success  in  the  motion  picture  field  would  dare  for  one  moment 
deliberately  to  steal  a story  idea  in  whole  or  in  part  from  any 
manuscript  submitted  to  him.  He  simply  couldn’t  afford  to  do 
so.  And  yet  comparatively  few  of  the  big  productions  of  recent 
years  which  have  been  based  on  historic  fact  or  on  the  develop- 
ment of  a purely  fictional  plot  written  directly  for  the  screen 
have  escaped  without  charges  of  plagiarism. 

The  distressing  part  of  it  is  the  fact  that  in  so  many  instances 
it  would  seem  that  the  plaintiffs  have  been  entirely  sincere  in 
their  accusations  and  have  really  believed  that  their  stories  or  ideas 
have  been  deliberately  stolen.  Yet  it  has  been  amply  demonstrated 
in  the  field  of  mechanical  invention  that  it  is  entirely  possible  for 
two  minds  in  remotely  separated  regions  of  the  country  to  develop 
almost  the  same  identical  idea  under  circumstances  which  utterly 
preclude  the  possibility  of  theft.  Similarly  in  developing  plots 
for  screen  plays  it  has  been  demonstrated  in  numerous  instances 
that  while  one  fundamental  idea  underlying  an  original  scenario 
submitted  to  a studio  may  be  the  same  as  that  upon  which  a fin- 
ished production  has  been  built,  the  picture  itself  was  in  produc- 
tion or  even  actually  completed  and  ready  for  release  before  the 
manuscript  containing  that  idea  had  been  received. 

Judge  Sibley’s  decision  in  which  Miss  Macpherson  is  accredited 
as  the  author  of  the  scenario  of  The  Ten  Commandments  and 
which  acquits  Cecil  de  Mille  and  the  Famous  Players-Lasky  Cor- 
poration from  any  accusation  of  conscious  plagiarism,  emphasizes 
a point  that  is  of  particular  interest.  In  reviewing  the  evidence 
presented  by  Mrs.  Thompson  he  points  out  that  the  notes  and  the 
completed  script  of  the  story  she  claims  to  have  written  bear  such 
a striking  resemblance  to  the  continuity  of  the  finished  production 
as  to  afford  foundation  for  the  deduction  that  they  could  only  have 
been  written  after  the  picture  had  been  completely  edited  and  pre- 
pared for  release. 

He  points  out  that  such  close  similarity  between  Mrs.  Thomp- 
son’s script  and  the  finished  production  would  imply  that  her  story 
could  only  have  been  influenced  by  either  the  picture  or  by  ad- 
vance information  concerning  the  structural  plot  of  the  story  as 
finally  cut  and  edited.  This  brings  forth  another  phase  of  the 
situation  which  may  afford  some  basis  for  the  belief  that,  in 
some  instances  at  least,  plaintiffs  in  cases  charging  plagiarism  on 


1925 


5 


©irector 


the  part  of  the  producer  have  themselves  been  guilty  of  unconscious 
plagiarism.  Granting  sincerity  on  the  part  of  those  who  believe 
themselves  to  have  been  sinned  against  it  is  but  fair  to  assume  that 
the  power  of  suggestion  has  influenced  them  in  unconsciously 
adapting  another’s  idea  as  their  own,  a situation  which  has  con- 
fronted many  writers. 

Judge  Sibley’s  decision  as  quoted  in  the  Los  Angeles  Examiner 
of  October  14,  is  so  pertinent  to  the  consideration  of  this  whole 
subject  that  it  is  reprinted  here: 

“It  sufficiently  appears  that  prior  to  1919  the  plaintiff,  Mrs. 
Mattie  Thomas  Thompson,  produced  a scenario  based  on  the 
Ten  Commandments. 

“It  is  shown  also  that  in  1920  the  defendant,  through  Cecil 
B.  De  Mille,  its  officer  and  director,  and  Miss  Jeanne  MacPher- 
son,  an  employee,  produced  a motion  picture  called  ‘The  Ten 
Commandments’  and  having  a similar  structure  and  plot.  Use 
or  knowledge  of  the  work  of  the  plaintiff  is  wholly  denied  bv 
Mr.  De  Mille  and  M iss  MacPherson  and  their  associates. 

“M  rs.  Thompson  now  produced  in  her  own  handwriting  cer- 
tain notes  and  a short  synopsis  of  her  play,  a copy  of  which  she 
claims  to  have  sent  defendant  in  1919.  The  similarity  is  such  as 
to  compel  the  belief  that  these  cannot  be  independent  productions 
but  were  taken  one  from  the  other. 

“The  most  plausible  theory  for  the  defendants  is  that  the 
plaintiff,  seeing  the  announcement  of  the  forthcoming  picture  in 
the  fall  of  1923,  conceived  the  idea  that  her  work  had  been 
stolen,  got  a copy  of  a newspaper  article  describing  the  picture, 
or  of  the  elaborate  program  put  out  later  containing  most  of  the 
article,  and  others  more  fully  setting  forth  the  plot  and  action, 
and  becoming  confirmed  in  the  belief  that  the  picture  was  taken 
from  her  scenarios,  completely  identified  them  in  her  mind,  and 
thereupon  she  sat  down  from  memory  her  synopsis  under  the 
influence  of  what  she  had  read  from  the  program,  practically 
reproducing  it. 

“I  find  grave  troubles  about  adopting  either  theory.  It  is 
preposterous  that  Mrs.  Thompson  should  have  fabricated  the  case 
entirely,  and  hardly  less  so  that  she  should  have  made  these  papers 
since  the  issue  arose  with  the  fraudulent  purpose  of  palming  them 
off  as  of  an  earlier  date. 

“On  the  other  hand,  it  appears  that  Mr.  De  Mille  was  pay- 
ing generously  for  his  materials.  More  than  a million  dollars 
was  expended  in  making  the  picture.  Such  an  investment  would 
not  have  been  placed  on  a stolen  foundation,  hardly  disguised, 
with  the  certainty  of  a reckoning  in  court  on  presenting  the 
picture. 

“The  manuscripts  of  Miss  MacPherson,  moreover,  show  pain- 
ful development,  with  almost  numberless  changes,  additions  and 
substitutions  by  Mr.  De  Mille,  refuting  the  idea  of  the  adoption 
of  a perfected  model. 

“The  similarity  of  verbiage  is  not,  however,  so  much  to  what 
is  in  the  photoplay  the  work  of  Mr.  De  Mille  and  Miss  Mac- 
Pherson, or  in  the  synopsis  prepared  from  the  latter  by  Mr. 
Kiesling,  but  to  the  program,  itself  a reproduction  of  a news- 
paper article. 

While  I should  be  loath  to  conclude  that  Mrs.  Thompson 
has  undertaken  to  perpetrate  a fraud  on  the  defendant  and  on 
the  court,  she  has  not  convinced  me  that  the  defendant  has  done 
the  like.  Having  the  burden  of  proof  on  this  issue,  I must  hold 
that  she  has  failed  to  carry  it  and  so  loses  her  contention.” 

Unit  Production 

RESPONSIBILITY  without  proportionate  authority  weak- 
ens the  functioning  of  any  organization  and  lessens  by  the 
ratio  between  those  two  elements  the  surety  of  success. 

This  fundamental  law  which  applies  to  all  forms  of  industrial 
and  commercial  activity  loses  none  of  its  effectiveness  when  ap- 
plied to  the  production  of  motion  pictures.  No  great  achieve- 
ment is  possible  unless  authority  as  well  as  responsibility  for  its 


accomplishment  is  vested  in  the  man  upon  whom  that  burden  is 
placed. 

It  is  a recognized  fact  that  ocean  liners  cannot  be  successfully 
navigated  by  the  officers  of  a steamship  company — there  must  be 
a captain  and  a well-trained  crew  for  each  ship.  And  once  the 
ship  leaves  the  dock  the  captain,  by  the  unwritten  law  of  the  sea, 
is  in  supreme  command. 

A motion  picture  production  cannot  be  directed  by  a group 
of  people  sitting  “in  conference.”  A successful  and  artistic  pic- 
ture must  be  the  result  of  the  creative  thought  and  work  of  its 
director. 

An  orchestra  can  play  tunes  without  a leader,  but  it  would  be 
sorry  music.  A Richard  Hageman,  a Sir  Henry  Wood,  or  an 
Alfred  Hertz  is  necessary  to  produce  real  music. 

A successful  publishing  company  finances,  prints,  manages  and 
sells  books,  but  if  the  officers,  business  manager,  circulation  mana- 
ger, advertising  manager  and  head  printer  were  to  pull  apart  and 
reconstruct  the  writings  of  their  famous  authors,  the  result  would 
not  make  very  successful  literature — and  yet  this  is  what  is  hap- 
pening every  day  in  the  making  of  motion  pictures. 

Just  as  surely  as  the  fact  that  the  reading  public  would  turn 
in  disgust  from  the  mangled  and  maltreated  remains  of  an  author’s 
work,  if  treated  as  above,  so  surely  will  the  theatre-going  public 
turn  aside  from  the  factory  made,  routine  developed,  mediocre 
picture.  Such  a product  cannot  earn  its  cost.  The  successful 
motion  picture  of  the  future,  artistically  and  financially,  will  be 
that  in  which  the  real  creative  artist  is  allowed  to  express  his  in- 
dividuality, unfettered  and  unhindered,  in  the  same  manner  as  his 
brother  workers  in  the  kindred  arts  of  music,  painting  and  litera- 
ture. 

Upon  the  director  falls  the  responsibility  for  the  completed  prod- 
uct. Give  him  the  authority  that  should  accompany  that  re- 
sponsibility. 

War  Pictures 

IN  the  pendulumistic  swing  of  popular  favor  war  pictures  again 
seem  riding  to  the  ascendency,  and  the  reception  by  the  theatre- 
going public  of  such  productions  as  The  Dark  Angel  and 
The  Big  Parade  is  being  watched  with  genuine  interest.  Whether 
the  time  is  ripe  now  for  a revival  of  vivid  recollections  of  all  that 
the  World  War  meant  to  the  American  that  stayed  home  and  the 
American  that  went  overseas  is  a matter  of  conjecture.  Advance 
showings  of  The  Dark  Angel  and  The  Big  Parade  have  brought 
from  overseas  veterans  keen  expression  of  interest.  But  what  of 
those  to  whom  the  war  brought  nothing  but  misery,  grief  and 
pain  ? Are  the  scars  left  upon  them  by  the  war  sufficiently  healed 
that  they  can  view  impersonally  the  harrowing  details  which  are 
essential  to  war  pictures  which  are  truly  pictures  of  the  war? 

It  is  particularly  interesting  to  note  that  in  both  these  produc- 
tions realism  has  reached  a much  higher  point  than  has  been  at- 
tained hithertofore.  This  is  particularly  true  of  The  Big  Parade 
by  unanimous  verdict  of  those  who  have  witnessed  the  advance 
showings  of  this  production.  We  have  had  war  pictures  touching 
on  fragmentary  issues  and  isolated  instances,  or  with  the  recon- 
structive period  which  has  followed  the  Avar,  but  here  are  vivid, 
realistic  productions  Avhich  depict  the  great  conflict  as  it  actually 
was,  that  convey  as  have  few  screen  achievements  of  recent  year 
the  spirit  of  the  Avar. 

What  will  be  the  verdict  of  the  theatre-going  public?  Does 
the  public  Avant  pictures  of  the  Avar  as  it  actually  Avas?  The  ex- 
periment at  least  should  pnwe  interesting  for  drama  is  the  founda- 
tion of  the  cinema  and  drama  without  conflict  cannot  exist.  War 
presents  one  of  the  greatest  elements  of  conflict  the  Avorld  knoAvs. 


6 


■ ~\  mo  no»*  ntTvn 

director 


November 


WOMEN’S 

KNOX 

HATS  and  COATS 


Rossiter 

220-222  W.  7th  St. 


( After  January  1st  at  645  S.  Flower  St.) 


Photo  by  Witzel 

Chappell  Dossett 

to  the  Ameri- 
can screen  whose  work  gives  much  promise,  and 
who  comes  to  this  country  after  eight  years  of 
European  experience,  a large  part  of  which  was 
spent  as  production  manager  for  the  London 
Film  Company.  When  the  Ben  Hur  company 
went  abroad,  Chappell  Dossett  joined  the  cast 


to  play  the  role  of  Drusus.  When  Fred  Niblo 
brought  Ben  Hur  back  to  Hollywood,  Dossett 
continued  in  the  cast.  Upon  completing  his 
role  as  Drusus  his  next  appearance  has  been 
with  William  Neill  in  the  Fox  production  of 
The  Cowboy  Prince.  Dossett  has  distinctive 
screen  personality  and  looks  like  a comer  on  the 
American  silver  sheet. 


Photo  by  Melbourne  Spurr 


Tvrnnr  Pn7i)Pir  *s  anot^er 

J ' x [y  / ever-growing  num- 

ber of  veteran  stage 
actors  permanently  to  ally  themselves  on  the 
side  of  the  silent  drama.  After  six  months  of 


free  lancing  in  Hollywood,  Tyrone  Powers  con- 
siders himself  definitely  a part  of  the  motion 
picture  colony  and  finds  in  the  cinema  a variety 
of  roles  that  afford  opportunities  for  interpre- 
tive work  seldom  found  on  the  stage. 


Bert  Woodruff 

out  of  the  juve- 
nile class,  is  nevertheless  popularly  known  as 
the  “G.A.R.  Juvenile  of  the  Screen,”  an  appel- 
lation which  is  readily  understandable  by  those 


who  have  witnessed  his  characterizations  of  this 
rapidly  diminishing  group  of  Civil  War  veter- 
ans. Woodruff  is  one  of  those  veterans  of  the 
profession  who  may  always  be  depended  upon 
for  human  characterizations  of  difficult  roles. 


T^firp  through  a series  of  remark- 
JT  / iLc  abiy  human  portrayals  has 
created  for  herself  a repu- 
tation as  the  screen’s  foremost  character  actress. 
Tn  all  her  work  there  is  that  element  of  genuine- 
ness, of  human  understanding,  that  adds  a vital 
touch  of  realism  to  any  production  in  which  she 


appears.  Like  others  who  have  risen  to  the  top 
of  her  profession,  she  is  a graduate  of  the  old 
Vitagraph  school.  As  a daughter  of  old  Erin, 
she  is  particularly  at  home  in  humorous  and 
semi-humorous  roles  calling  for  Irish  charac- 
terizations. 


Photo  by  Freulich 

1/lClil  JA  (J  f f l j/  pendable  players 

who  can  always  be 
counted  upon  for  effective  work  as  a featured 
lead.  Because  of  this  very  dependability  and 
the  recognized  following  he  has  won,  he  is 
much  in  demand  as  a free  lance.  For  instance, 
having  completed  his  work  as  male  lead  for 


Harry  Beaumont’s  production  of  Rose  of  the 
W orld , he  was  called  to  the  M-G-M  studios  in 
Jackie  Coogan’s  picture,  Old  Clothes , and  is 
now  playing  male  lead  opposite  Barbara  de  la 
Mott,  in  Robert  Vignola’s  production  of  Fifth 
Avenue , now  filming  at  Metropolitan  studio  for 
Belasco. 


Photo  by  Hartsook 

Claire  McDowell 

and  her  actor  husband 

Charles  Hill  Mailes 


constitute  one  of  the  oldest  teams  in  the  acting  profession. 
Both  are  “graduates”  from  the  speaking  stage  as  well  as 
from  the  old  Biograph  Company  and  have  appeared  to- 
gether in  many  roles  in  stage  and  screen.  Their  most  recent 
production  in  which  both  have  appeared  has  been  Ben  Hur. 
Claire  McDowell  appears  as  the  mother  in  The  Big  Parade 
and  has  been  cast  in  a similar  role  in  Hobart  Henley’s 
forthcoming  production  for  M-G-M,  Free  Lips,  in  which 
Norma  Shearer  plays  the  feminine  lead  opposite  Lew  Cody. 


13 


director 


Directing  Harold 

Lloyd 


Hk 


By 

Sam 

Taylor 


STYLES  in  entertainment  change  as 
rapidly  and  as  radically  as  any  dress 
mode,  a fact  that  has  been  amply 
demonstrated  in  every  branch  of  entertain- 
ment : magazine  fiction,  novels,  stage  plays 
and  especially,  motion  pictures.  In  no  field 
of  entertainment  activity,  however,  has 
this  been  more  strongly  indicated  than  in 
the  realm  of  comedy  production. 

During  the  past  few  years  has  been 
evidenced  a steady  trend  toward  what  we 
were  wont  to  call  in  former  days,  “subtle 
comedy” — the  comedy  that  builds  its  hu- 
mor on  a dramatic  foundation,  the  comedy 
that  is  treated  seriously  and  with  infinite 
attention  to  structural  details,  the  comedy 
that  is  actually  built  just  as  a contractor 
rears  a limit  height  building  rather  than 
one  which  is  just  thrown  together. 

Early  exponents  of  this  type  of  comedy 
were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sidney  Drew  and  a 
decade  ago  the  “know-it-alls”  were  loud  in 
their  affirmations  that  the  subtle  comedy 
of  the  Drews  would  never  go  over.  But 
they  put  it  over  and  were  becoming  thor- 
oughly established  as  leaders  in  this  parti- 
cular type  of  comedy  when  Sidney  Drew’s 
death  intervened. 

Until  Harold  Lloyd  stepped  into  the 
breach  with  the  new  distinct  type  of  dra- 
matic comedy  which  has  placed  him  today 
in  the  front  rank  of  box-office  attractions, 
the  trend  toward  dramatic  comedy  stag- 


nated and  received  but  little  impetus. 
Such  developments  as  were  made  in  this 
direction  were  limited  to  the  field  of  com- 
edy dramas,  rollicking  dramatic  stories 
with  a strong  undercurrent  of  humor — 
productions  of  the  type  that  the  late  Wal- 
lace Reid  did  so  effectively. 

Lloyd’s  steady  rise  to  the  top  has  not 
only  brought  him  the  success  which  he  so 
richly  deserved,  but  has  also  amply  demon- 
strated the  fundamental  truth  of  the  pre- 
mise upon  which  all  of  his  pictures  have 
been  predicated : the  treatment  of  comedy 
with  the  same  seriousness  as  that  accorded 
to  dramatic  productions,  and  the  infusion 
of  a strong  vein  of  drama  into  comedy 
features  of  the  story. 

There  is  a vast  difference  between  com- 
edv-drama  and  dramatic  comedy  of  the 
Lloyd  type.  The  first  is  fundamentally 
dramatic,  as  its  name  implies.  Whatever 
comedy  it  has,  is  injected  to  provide  relief 
between  intensely  dramatic  sequences  and 
to  give  the  audience  a rest  from  emotional 
strain. 

A dramatic  comedy  is,  naturally,  basic- 
ally aimed  to  produce  laughter.  The 
drama  which  is  infused  into  it,  is  placed 
there  not  alone  to  rest  the  audience’s  risi- 
bilities— which  is  important  enough  from  a 
physiological  point  of  view — but  also  to 
knit  together  the  comedy  sequences  in  the 
network  of  a fundamentally  dramatic  story. 


Thus  alone  can  we  tell  a logically-moti- 
vated comedy  story  and  it  is  this  practice 
which  has  made  the  Lloyd  pictures  what 
they  are  today  and  which  is  bringing  about 
a revolution  in  all  comedy  producing. 

Motion  pictures  have  found  their  most 
genuine  expression  in  comedies  rather  than 
in  dramas  and,  in  the  double  race  toward 
the  goal  of  perfection,  comedy  has  far  out- 
stripped any  other  type  of  picture.  I can 
say  this  without  being  accused  of  prejudice 
or  bias,  since  it  is  only  a reiteration  of  what 
the  sincerest  students  of  the  screen  have 
already  said. 

In  the  first  place,  the  fundamental  tech- 
nique of  motion  pictures  is  pantomime  and 
even  a surface  study  reveals  the  supremacy 
of  the  comedians  in  the  pantomimic  field. 
And  with  the  supremacy  of  this  type  of 
actor,  there  has  been  a corresponding  im- 
provement in  story-telling  and  in  the  di- 
rection of  comedies  far  beyond  the  heights 
reached  in  dramatic  productions!  True 
pictures  should,  of  course,  be  told  in  action 
rather  than  in  words,  and  the  possibilities 
for  such  narration  through  pictures  are  far 
greater  in  the  comedy  field. 

COMEDIES  have  gone  ahead  through 
recognizing  the  artistic  and  intellec- 
tual development  of  motion  picture  audi- 
ences far  more  than  the  dramatic  films  have 
done.  The  screen  public  has  not  only  im- 
proved in  its  ability  to  “read  film;”  it  has 


14 


November 


_T  “N  MOTION  PU  1 LRI 

director 


also  developed  real  artistic  ideals — an  im- 
provement in  mass  taste  which  has  never 
before  been  even  approached  in  the  devel- 
opment of  any  other  art-expression  within 
a similar  period  of  time.  The  screen  pub- 
lic has  graduated  from  the  kindergarten 
stage  of  Sunday-supplement,  alleged  humor. 
The  custard  pie  industry  is  now  restrict- 
ing itself  to  the  manufacture  of  edible 
dainties  rather  than 
comic  missiles  and  even 
bathing  beauties  must 
be  able  to  act  a little 
in  addition  to  the 
sculptural  charm  of 
their  lower  limbs  ! 

Some  slapstick  has,  of 
course,  survived  and 
we  shall  always  have 
it,  but  to  a more  and 
more  limited  extent. 

Harold  Lloyd’s 
drawing  power  is  due 
not  only  to  his  own 
charming  personality, 
but  also  because  his 
pictures  have  shown  a 
realization  of  the 
changed  desires  of  mo- 
tion picture  audiences. 

The  Lloyd  comedies 
have  gags,  of  course; 
but  always  the  gag  fur- 
thers the  story.  In  fact, 
only  those  incidents 
which  fulfill  this  re- 
quirement, as  well  as 
being  intrinsically  fun- 
ny, can  stay  in  the  pic- 
ture. And  underneath 
the  whole  structure  is 
a foundation  of  legiti- 
mate plot  and  charac- 
ter development  as  con- 
sistent as  in  any  of  the 
so-called  dramatic 
films. 

In  fact,  our  practise 
in  preparing  the  sce- 
narios for  Lloyd’s  pic- 
tures, during  the  per- 
iod before  actual  shoot- 
ing, reveals  this  truism. 

Our  first  task  is  to 

write  a dramatic  foundation  structure,  that 
we  divide  the  scenario  into  “factions,”  or 
integral  sequences,  and  then  proceed  to  the 
insertion  of  gags  into  them.  First  we  “gag 
up”  the  initial  faction  and  then  while  I am 
directing  Harold  in  this  sequence,  the  gag 
men  in  the  office  are  preparing  the  inci- 
dents and  treatment  for  the  second  faction. 
Always,  of  course,  under  Lloyd’s  guidance 
and  my  own  supervision — and  so  on,  until 
we  have  shot  the  several  factions  which 
compose  the  story. 

THE  FRESHMAN  illustrates,  per- 
haps better  than  any  other  Lloyd  pic- 
ture outside  of  Girl  Shy , our  method  of 
injecting  drama  into  comedy.  Interspersed 
in  this  rollicking  story  of  collegiate  life 
are  several  incidents  of  poignant  pathos 


and  real  romance.  There  is  a really  beauti- 
ful sweetness  in  the  first  meeting  of  Harold 
and  Jobyna  on  the  train  and  a wistfulness 
in  the  scene  where  her  maternal  instinct 
leads  her  to  rescue  him  from  the  ordeal 
of  sewing  on  his  buttons. 

There  is  real  drama  in  the  building  up 
of  the  photograph  episode,  where  Harold 
first  puts  his  own  picture  below  that  of  the 


Harold  Lloyd  hands 
Sam  Taylor  his  fifth 

MEGAPHONE,  SYMBOLIZ- 
ING HIS  FIFTH  YEAR  AS 

Lloyd’s  director. 


most  popular  man  in  college  whom  he  has 
set  up  for  himself  as  his  ideal.  Later,  he 
puts  his  picture  alongside  of  his  hero  and, 
finally,  above  it.  It  is  not  a spirit  of  boast- 
fulness, but  the  expression  of  a youth’s 
realization  of  a cherished  ambition  and  a 
universal  youngster’s  trick  of  bolstering  up 
his  own  courage  by  telling  himself  he  is 
achieving  what  he  has  set  out  to  accom- 
plish. And  Harold’s  complete  break-down 
and  sobbing  in  the  lap  of  the  girl  he  loves, 
when  he  realizes  that  he  has  all  along  been 
the  student  joke  rather  than  the  college 
idol,  is  to  my  mind  as  dramatic  an  episode 
as  anything  I have  ever  seen  on  the  screen. 
The  incident  of  the  photographs  enters 
again,  to  symbolize  the  drama,  by  the  in- 
troduction of  a flash  shot  of  his  empty  room 


— a gust  of  wind  blows  Harold’s  picture 
off  the  wall  and  into  the  waste  basket ! 

Do  you  remember  the  sweet  romance  in 
Girl  Sliy,  where  Harold  saves  the  box 
which  once  held  the  dog  biscuit  for  Joby- 
na’s  pet  and  where  she,  in  turn,  keeps  the 
crackerjack  container  which  they  enjoyed 
together?  The  episode  had  a comedy 
twist,  it  is  true ; but  we  all  of  us  felt  that 
the  romance  of  it  was 
just  as  strong  and  just 
as  sweet  as  the  trite 
dramatic  form  of  the 
boy  treasuring  his 
girl’s  handkerchief  or 
her  pressing  a flower 
which  her  lover  had 
given  to  her.  Then 
there  was  the  scene  in 
the  publisher’s  office, 
where  Harold  brings 
his  treatise  on  how  to 
make  love,  with  all  the 
seriousness  and  studi- 
ousness of  an  erudite 
professor,  when  he 
realizes  that  his  book 
of  experiences  is  but 
the  recounting  of  a 
series  of  episodes  in 
which — to  use  the  ver- 
nacular— “he  has  been 
kidded  to  death.” 

The  use  of  two  of 
Harold  Lloyd’s  pic- 
tures to  point  out  spe- 
cific instances  of  gen- 
eral theories  is  not 
done,  I assure  you,  in 
any  spirit  of  boastful- 
ness, but  because  these 
very  points  have  been 
mentioned  repeatedly 
in  countless  criticisms 
of  these  two  pictures 
and  because,  having 
worked  out  the  inci- 
dents named,  they 
come  to  my  mind  as  il- 
lustrations of  the  poli- 
cies we  have  followed 
in  making  all  of  these 
pictures. 

The  chief  factor 
which  has  made  it  possible  for  us  to  inject 
drama  into  comedy  has  been  the  great  tal- 
ent of  Harold  Lloyd  and  the  fact  that  it  is 
only  pictures  of  this  type  which  can  really 
exploit  his  versatility  as  an  all-round  actor. 
This  fact  explains  Lloyd’s  supremacy  and, 
at  the  same  time,  his  responsibility  for 

changing  the  entire  course  of  comedy  mak- 
ing. 

THE  improvements  in  comedy,  based 

on  the  improvement  in  audience- 
desires — and  the  consequent  wish  of  the 
audience  for  more  comedy  in  all  pictures 
— leads,  in  turn,  to  an  explanation  of  the 
practice  of  introducing  comedy  into  dramas. 
All  of  us,  who  are  making  pictures  of  any 
type,  know  of  the  recent  coming  of  the 
(Continued  on  Page  50) 


IS 


192  5 


director 


Getting  What  You  Want,  When 
You  Want  It,  Is  Given  As 
One  of  the  Reasons 

Why 

Hollywood 

By  Robert  Vignola 


The  Second  of  a Series  of  Articles  Dis- 
cussing the  Pros  and  Cons  of  Hollywood 
as  the  Center  of  Motion  Picture  Production 


OF  the  many  genuinely  adequate  rea- 
sons why  Hollywood  is  and  in  all 
probability  will  continue  to  be  the 
logical  center  of  motion  picture  production, 
the  fact  that  Hollywood  is  the  one  place 
in  the  world  where  there  are  adequate  fa- 
cilities for  making  pictures  impresses  me 
as  being  a factor  well  worthy  of  considera- 
tion. 

As  a result  of  the  location  of  the  indus- 
try in  Hollywood  and  its  having  become 
an  important  factor  in  the  community 
there  has  grown  up  around  the  industry 
an  amazing  array  of  accessory  features 
which  have  today  become  absolutely  essen- 
tial to  the  efficient  and  economic  production 
of  modern  film  entertainment. 

Not  the  least  important  of  these  is  the 
development  of  “prop”  facilities.  In  ad- 
dition to  the  highly  organized  property 
rooms  of  the  various  studies  there  are  a 
number  of  independent  prop  houses  supply- 
ing all  sorts  of  accessories  for  settings  and 
costuming  to  which  any  producing  unit  may 
turn. 

Where  else  can  such  facilities  be  found  ? 
For  instance,  while  making  Fifth  Avenue 
for  Belasco  Productions  in  New  York  last 


month,  I had  a sudden  need  for  a hat,  size 
7%,  such  as  might  have  been  worn  by  a 
young  blood  of  the  fifties.  In  Hollywood 
a phone  call  -would  have  brought  me  twenty 
of  them  in  an  hour.  I could  have  en- 
trusted their  selection  to  any  of  half  a 
dozen  agencies  which  exist  for  that  purpose. 
In  New  York,  it  took  me  three  days  to 
get  one — and  two  men  spent  all  of  their 
time  searching  for  it. 

The  picture  industry  is  built  on  props 
and  costumes,  more  or  less,  and  actors. 
And  the  good  will  of  the  community. 

THERE  is  undoubtedly  more  genuine 
colonial  furniture  in  New  York  than 
in  Hollywood.  There  are,  without  question, 
more  pewter  mugs  and  bustles  in  Florida 
than  in  California.  Spokane,  Seattle, 
Portland  and  San  Francisco — to  mention 
several  other  cities  that  have  embryo  mo- 
tion picture  studios — may  possibly  have 
more  Indian  head-dresses,  more  flint-lock 
muskets,  more  ox-carts,  within  their  con- 
fines than  has  Los  Angeles. 

But  in  Los  Angeles  the  man  who  wants 
a flintlock,  a bustle  or  a colonial  high-boy, 
or  twenty  of  each,  can  get  them  more 


quickly  and  more  certainly  than  can  anyone 
anywhere. 

If  the  prop  or  the  costume  he  wants  is 
not  in  the  wardrobe  or  the  prop  room  of 
the  studio  where  he  is  making  his  picture, 
he  can  phone  the  Western  Costume  Com- 
pany or  the  immense  rental  prop  depart- 
ment of  the  United  Studios,  or  anyone  of 
a score  of  other  agencies  and  get  what  he 
wants  in  an  hour  or  less. 

If  he  wants  a lion,  or  a two-headed  pink 
snake,  or  a dancing  monkey  or  a whole 
menagerie ; if  he  wants  a score  of  bald- 
headed  negroes  with  white  beards,  or  three 
red-headed  Japanese;  if  he  wants  a three- 
inch  cockroach  that  can’t  swim  or  a Kaffir 
spear — all  a director  has  to  do  is  to  con- 
sult a directory  and  phone  the  right  num- 
ber— or,  simpler  yet,  tell  his  assistant  to 
get  them. 

Nearly  fifty  thousand  people  are  listed 
on  the  books  of  the  various  casting  agencies 
— and  included  among  them  are  club-footed 
giants,  bow-legged  dwarfs,  sword-swallow- 
ers, snake-eaters,  mothers  with  children 
aged  anywhere  from  two  days  to  seventy 
years,  women  noted  for  their  beauty  and 
for  their  ugliness. 


16 


©i  rector 


November 


WANTED  a boot-jack  and  a celluloid  collar  for 
another  of  the  “Fifth  Avenue”  scenes  in  New 
ork.  It  would  hare  been  a matter  of  a few  minutes 
wait  if  we  had  been  working  in  a Hollywood  studio. 
It  cost  us  a day — several  thousand  dollars.  And  then 
the  celluloid  collar  came  from  Philadelphia.  One  of 
the  prop  men  said  his  father  lived  there  and  he  always 
wore  them,  so,  after  canvassing  more  than  twenty 
shops  in  New  York,  he  wired  his  father  and  the  col- 
lars arrived  at  noon  the  next  day. 

I will  leave  the  discussion  of  the  capital  investment 
in  the  picture  industry  in  Hollywood  for  someone 
better  able  to  deal  with  it  than  I,  but  before  leaving 
this  subject  I do  want  to  point  out  that  in  New  York 
the  industry  is  one  of  hundreds — and  of  less  import- 
ance to  the  community  than  the  cloak  and  suit  busi- 
ness. But  to  Hollywood,  to  Los  Angeles,  the  in- 
dustry is  of  paramount  (adv.)  importance.  Barker’s 
or  any  furniture  house,  will  rent  anything  in  its  stock 
for  a picture.  The  First  National  Bank,  or  the 
corner  grocery  in  Watts,  is  always  willing  to  allow  its 
quarters  or  its  employees  to  be  used  in  a scene. 

As  for  me,  personally,  for  the  first  time  in  my  adult 
life  I have  a Home — and  I am  going  to  stay  there. 
I’ll  go  to  New  York  for  a few  weeks,  or  to  Tim- 
buctoo,  but  I am  going  to  Live  in  Hollywood  for  the 
rest  of  my  life.  I dwell  on  a hilltop,  in  quiet  and 
peace  with  the  lights  of  the  city  below  me  and  those 
of  God  above  me.  In  ten  minutes  I can  be  at  work 
in  the  studio,  in  twenty  at  the  theater.  Forsake  that 
for  rumble,  lights,  excitement?  I should  say  not! 

Nor  will  anyone  else  of  importance  in  the  industry 
that  I know  ! 


In  the  prop 

ROOMS  OF  THE 
STUDIOS  ONE 
MAY  FIND 
ANYTHING 
FROM  A BIRD 
CAGE  TO  A 
FOUR-POSTED 

BED ABOVE, 

FOUR-POSTED 
BED  DESIGNED 

for  Mary 
Pickford’s 

USE  IN 

“Little  Lord 
Fauntel- 

ROY AT 

LEFT,  ONE 
CORNER  OF 
THE  PROPERTY 
ROOMS  AT  THE 

United 

Studios. 


1925 


MOTION  MI  1 WI 

©irector 


17 


Putting  the 
Movies  on 
the  Air 


RADIO  has  been  frequently  decried 
by  theatrical  wise-acres  as  being  not 
only  competitive  to  motion  pictures 
but  as  even  threatening  the  very  existence 
of  the  motion  picture  theatre,  but  such  has 
not  been  the  experience  of  Warner  Bros., 
who,  as  owners  and  operators  of  KFWB, 
the  huge  broadcasting  station  which  domi- 
nates the  air  in  Hollywood,  occupy  the 
unique  position  of  being  the  only  motion 
picture  firm  of  national  magnitude  func- 
tioning in  the  radio  world. 

In  adopting  the  radio  Warner  Bros, 
have  put  into  operation  that  age-old  prin- 
ciple of  converting  what  seems  at  first 
glance  to  be  a destructive  force,  into  an 
ally  contributing  its  share  toward  the  final 
results  to  be  achieved.  In  this  somewhat 
the  same  principle  as  that  which  has  actu- 
ated the  development  of  radio  broadcasting 
as  an  adjunct  to  newspaper  publishing  has 
been  followed.  As  an  advertising  medium 
the  radio  presented  threatening  aspects  to 
the  established  advertising  mediums  of  the 
community  as  represented  by  the  news- 
papers until  a certain  domination  of  the 
air  was  acquired  by  the  newspapers  them- 
selves. 

Similarly  in  the  cinematic  world.  While 
the  radio  might  be  conceived  as  possessing 


features  detrimental  to  theatrical  enter- 
tainment Warner  Bros,  have  demonstrated 
through  KFWB  that  it  possesses  distinc- 
tively constructive  features  which  have 
tended  to  increase  the  popularity  of  the  si- 
lent drama.  For,  just  as  the  radio  has 
had  the  effect  of  “vocalizing”  newspaper 
advertising,  so  has  KFWB  served  to  create 
for  Warner  Bros,  screen  activities  an  in- 
terest heightened  by  the  addition  of  an 
auditory  appeal  to  the  already  existent  op- 
tical features  of  screen  attraction. 

This  has  been  particularly  demonstrated 
in  the  matter  of  creating  among  screen  and 
radio  fans,  a more  intimate  contact  with 
the  personalities  of  the  silent  drama.  In 
one  sense,  the  radio  as  utilized  by  Warner 
Bros.,  has  supplied  the  missing  link  be- 
tween stage  and  screen  through  broad- 
casting the  voices  of  the  stars  appearing  in 
the  films.  That  these  voices  come  to  fans 
on  the  air  and  are  wholly  detached  from 
visible  expression  of  the  star’s  personality 
but  adds  interest  and  novelty  to  the  ex- 
perience. Imagination  readily  supplies  a 
mental  picture  of  the  star  whose  voice  is 
heard,  a picture  that  is  frequently  a com- 
posite of  several  of  the  roles  which  that 
star  has  played  on  the  screen  and  which 
have  particularly  appealed  to  the  auditor. 


THUS  the  radio,  in  addition  to  its  ad- 
vertising features,  has  proved  a dis- 
tinct contribution  to  the  screen  interests  of 
Warner  Bros.  Studio. 

And  yet,  when  Warner  Bros,  decided  to 
install  their  broadcasting  station  immedi- 
ate disaster  was  predicted  and  it  was  pro- 
nounced foolish  opposition  to  their  pictorial 
interests.  So  completely  has  its  value  been 
proven  that  plans  are  in  consideration  for 
establishing  KFWB  in  the  new  theatre 
which  Warner  Bros,  are  to  erect  in  the 
immediate  future  at  Hollywood  Boule- 
vard and  Wilcox  avenue. 

Not  only  that  but  it  is  planned  further 
to  develope  its  use  in  connection  with  War- 
ner Bros,  screen  studios  and  under  the 
supervision  of  Frank  Murphy,  electrical 
engineer  for  the  studio,  six  motor  trucks 
have  been  designed  and  equipped  with  loud 
speakers,  receiving  sets,  microphones  and 
telephone  attachments.  Several  of  these 
trucks  are  now  in  operation  on  location 
and  are  proving  their  worth  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Warner  Bros.  Screen  Classics. 
Particularly  have  they  proved  of  value  in 
directing  mob  scenes  and  in  making  clearly 
audible  instructions  to  hundreds  of  people 
scattered  all  over  the  set. 


18 


N ovember 


T~'*^  MOTION  MCTLItt 

©irector 


Other  trucks  have  been  sent  East  where 
a cross-country  tie  up  it  contemplated  by 
which  fans  from  coast  to  coast  will  be  in- 
formed of  events  in  movieland  and  will 
be  told  about  current  and  forthcoming 
Warner  productions. 

To  this  end  “Chief”  Murphy  is  now 
superintending  the  construction  of  a large 
portable  broadcasting  station  which  will  be 
a miniature  duplicate  of  KFWB.  The 
power  to  operate  will  be  supplied  by  two 
motor  generators.  Its  call  will  be  6XBR; 
its  wave  length  108  meters. 

EVERY  evening  between  ten  and  eleven 
a player  from  the  studio  stock  com- 
pany, which  includes  Marie  Prevost,  Louise 
Fazenda,  Irene  Rich,  Dorothy  Devore, 
June  Marlowe,  Patsy  Ruth  Miller,  Do- 
lores and  Helene  Costello,  Alice  Calhoun, 
M yrna  Loy,  John  Barrymore,  Monte  Blue, 
Syd  Chaplin,  Huntlv  Gordon,  Willard 
Louis,  John  Roche,  John  Harron,  John 
Patrick,  Kenneth  Harlan,  Matt  Moore, 
Clive  Brook,  Gayne  Whitman,  Charles 
Conklin,  Don  Alverado  and  Charles  Far- 
rell, is  selected  to  act  as  guest  announcer. 
This  gives  fans  who  have  seen  them  on 
the  screen  many  times,  an  opportunity  to 
hear  their  voices. 

In  all  respects  KFWB  is  a motion  pic- 
ture broadcasting  station.  It  is  not  only 
owned  and  operated  by  a producer  but  it 


is  the  aim  of  W arners  to  knit  a closer  con- 
tact with  their  listeners  and  the  industry. 
Various  motion  picture  stars  and  directors 
drop  in  of  an  evening  and  they  are  imme- 
diately pressed  into  service  to  say  a few 
words.  On  Sunday  evening  at  the  regular 
Warner  Bros.’  hour  the  station  holds  an 
impromptu  hour.  Stars  from  all  over 
Hollywood  are  invited  and  a regular  screen 
family  program  is  floated  through  the  air. 
The  atmosphere  of  Hollywood,  the  center 
of  the  motion  picture  industry,  is  imbued 
in  the  entire  program. 

The  station  itself  is  a 500  watt  Western 
Electric  outfit  erected  and  maintained  by 
Frank  Murphy,  the  studio  chief  engineer. 

The  150-foot  towers  are  placed  directly 
in  front  of  the  big  white  studio  on  Sunset 
Boulevard,  one  at  each  end  of  it,  and  all 
passers-by  know  that  it  is  the  motion  pic- 
ture industry  that  boasts  of  Station 
KFWB. 

All  radio  fans  know  it  and  know  they 
can  hear  their  favorite  star  any  evening 
between  the  hours  of  ten  and  eleven,  but 
with  mighty  good  programs  every  night 
from  six  to  12  p.  m.  “Don’t  go  ’way, 
folks,  it’s  KFWB.” 

Many  of  Warner’s  directors  have  also 
been  heard  on  the  station,  among  them 
William  Beaudine,  Charles  “Chuck”  Reis- 
ner,  J.  Stuart  Blackton,  and  Erie  Kenton. 


New  York  Shows  Disgust  Star 

“And  they  censor  motion  pictures!” 

That  was  Evelyn  Brent’s  pertinent  com- 
ment on  the  New  York  shows  when  she 
arrived  home  in  Hollywood  Sunday  after 
several  weeks  vacation  in  Gotham. 

“I  saw  and  heard  things  in  reputable 
New  York  theatres  which  would  bar  any 
newspaper  from  the  mails  if  reproduced  in 
print,”  she  declared.  “I  saw  women  pranc- 
ing about  the  stage,  making  an  exhibition 
of  their  nakedness,  without  a thread  to 
cover  them. 

“I  didn’t  sneak  up  an  alley  to  see  the 
sights  of  the  slums.  I didn’t  seek  out 
nasty  shows.  I loathe  nastiness.  I have 
lived  my  life  in  New  York  and  London  and 
Paris  and  think  I am  broad  minded.  But 
I was  disgusted  with  what  I saw  in  the 
shows  that  are  most  talked  of  in  New 
York.  The  music  was  good,  the  scenery 
and  the  costumes  were  splendid  works  of 
art.  The  spectacles  had  been  conceived 
by  masters. 

“A  nude  woman  may  be  pretty.  But  a 
naked  one  is  disgusting.  And  the  show 
girls  in  the  Follies  type  of  performance 
were  naked.  When  they  wore  anything 
at  all  it  was  just  to  accentuate  their  naked- 
ness. 

“And  they  censor  motion  pictures  in 
New  York!” 


As  GENERAL  MANAGER  OF  KFWB,  THE  ONLY  MOTION  PICTURE  BROADCASTING  STUDIO,  NoRMAN  MANNING  IS  CREATING  FOR 

Warner  Brothers  stars  increased  popularity  through  “personal  appearances”  on  the  air. 


19  2 5 


®i  rector 


19 


Custom 


versus 


Costume 


By  Bertram 
A.  Holiday 


WHILE  everyone  with  whom  I have 
talked  seems  thoroughly  satisfied 
that  the  Metro-Goldwyn-Maver 
production  of  Ben  Hur  is  destined  to  prove 
the  biggest  cinematic  sensation  since  Ouo 
Vadis  and  The  Birth  of  a Nation,  its  ac- 
tual reception  by  the  theatre-going  public 
is  likely  to  prove  exceedingly  interesting, 
and  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  no  sure- 
fire method  of  predetermining  what  the 
reaction  of  that  public  to  any  production 
is  likely  to  be  has  yet  been  evolved. 

However  there  is  every  reason  to  believe 
that  Ben  Hur  will  measure  up  to  all  ex- 
pectations and  possibly  even  more.  Cer- 
tainly it  ought  to  if  the  amount  of  time, 
effort  and  money  involved  mean  anything, 
not  to  mention  the  fact  that  it  has  taken 
two  sets  of  directors,  scenarists  and  prin- 
cipals. 


I doubt  if  there  ever  has  been  a pro- 
duction possessing  greater  box  office  angles, 
as  those  angles  are  commonly  interpreted. 
It  has  a marvelous  story  as  its  foundation 
plus  a play  which  ran  successfully  for  more 
than  a score  of  years,  all  of  which  means 
a wealth  of  ready-made  publicity  and  ex- 
ploitation. 

While  these  are  of  value  and  play  a part 
the  importance  of  which  hardly  can  be  ques- 
tioned, there  is  one  other  factor  that  ap- 
peals to  me  as  being  of  equal  importance, 
dove-tailing  with  the  others  to  certain  ex- 
tent, yet  of  importance  even  without  them. 
I refer  to  the  psychological  appeal  in  the 
story  of  Ben  Hur. 

It  is  this  appeal  which  discounts  in  ad- 
vance the  fact  that  Ben  Hur  is  and  must 
of  necessity  be  a costume  play  and  costume 
plays  are  things  which  the  American  pro- 


ucer  has  learned  to  leave  severely  alone 
and  which  the  American  exhibitor  has 
learned  to  his  cost  too  frequently  fail  to 
bring  results  at  the  box  office. 

The  American  public  shies  instinctively 
from  the  costume  play.  Ordinarily  it 
doesn’t  appeal  to  them,  and  if  there  is  one 
thing  that  the  American  producer  strives 
to  do,  it  is  to  give  the  theatre-going  public 
what  the  producer  believes  that  public 
wants. 

All  of  which  bears  more  or  less  directly 
on  the  opening  paragraph  of  a letter  I re- 
ceived recently  from  Budapest,  Hungary, 
in  which  the  writer,  one  Anthony  Ehler 
says, 

“1  am  the  author  of  a film  scenario.  I 
am  one  who  has  sent  in  a scenario  to  sev- 
eral producers  and  whose  scenario  has  been 
returned  with  regrets,  saying  that  although 


20 


©i  rector 


November 


Splendidly  acted  as  is  their  portrayal  of  the  customs  of  the  period, 

THERE  IS  AN  INEVITABLE  STAGINESS  ABOUT  THIS  SCENE  BETWEEN  NOVARRO  AND 

Bushman  in  the  M-G-M  production  of  “Ben  Hur.” 


the  story  is  an  interesting  one  they  are  not 
interested  at  the  present  in  costume  stories 
and  that  the  public  is  tired  of  them.  Will 
you  look  into  this  business  for  me?” 

I have  looked  into  “this  business’  for 
him,  and,  as  expressed  in  the  foregoing 
have  found  that  the  market  for  costume 
stories,  as  such,  simply  doesn’t  exist;  that 
there  must  be  some  powerful  motivation 
back  of  such  a story,  some  theme  with 
world-wide  appeal,  before  a period  play 
will  even  be  considered. 

I am  not  advancing  this  as  a new  dis- 
covery by  any  means.  It  is  a matter  of 
common  knowledge,  at  least  in  the  pro- 
ducing world.  Costume  pictures  don’t 
seem  to  pay  out. 

And  yet  there  are  so  many  people  out- 
side of  immediate  contact  with  motion  pic- 
ture activity  who  consider  that  the  screen 
is  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  depiction  of 
stories  of  this  type.  All  of  which  is  essen- 
tially true,  up  to  a certain  point.  The 
screen  is  ideally  suited  to  the  depiction  of 
the  romance  of  bye-gone  ages  and  through 
its  illusive  qualities  that  romance  may  be 
made  to  live  again. 

And  there  is  the  rub. 

IT  is  one  thing  to  be  held  spell-bound  by 
the  graphic  art  of  the  novelist,  to  be 
swayed  by  the  charm  of  his  description  and 
by  the  brilliance  of  his  style  and  diction. 
One’s  imagination  keeping  pace  with  the 
imagination  of  the  author  readily  evolves 
from  the  word  pictures  on  the  printed  page, 
mental  pictures  which  visualize  the  char- 


acters, the  settings  and  the  action  of  the 
story. 

Such  a story  as  Herr  Ehler  submits  with 
his  letter,  a story  to  which  he  has  given 
the  title  Oberon  and  which  he  states  is 
founded  on  the  folk-tale  of  Wieland,  if 
told  with  all  the  skill  of  a great  novelist 
would  grip  the  imagination  of  the  reader 
and  would  hold  it  in  breathless  interest 
to  the  very  end.  And  from  the  word  pic- 
tures woven  by  the  author  into  the  warp 
and  woof  of  his  story  the  reader’s  imagina- 
tion evolves  mental  pictures  in  which  the 
characters  of  the  story  come  to  life  and 
move  amid  the  settings  so  graphically  des- 
cribed. 

But  here  is  the  interesting  feature.  Every 
reader  creates  his  own  mental  picture,  a 
picture  inspired  and  dictated  by  something 
that  has  gone  before, — by  the  capacity  of 
his  mind  to  reconstruct.  Sometimes  these 
pictures  are  sharply  etched,  sometimes,  and 
I believe  this  to  be  more  frequently  the 
case,  they  are  nebulous  and  sketchy,  bare 
outlines  which,  while  entirely  sufficient  to 
make  the  story  seem  real  to  the  reader, 
would  vanish  as  a puff  of  smoke  were  the 
reader  to  attempt  to  put  down  on  paper 
the  picture  he  sees  in  his  mind.  The  de- 
tails just  aren’t  there. 

But  while  they  last  these  pictures  seem 
real.  For  instance,  how  often  have  you 
read  a book  which  particularly  appealed 
to  you  and  a year  or  so  later  have  picked 
up  that  book  and  in  thumbing  through  the 
illustrations  have  searched  in  vain  for  some 
particular  illustration  you  were  positive 


was  there.  Why  that  picture  was  so  clear- 
ly etched  in  your  memory  that  you  could 
have  sworn  that  it  had  actually  appeared 
in  black  and  white  in  the  pages  of  the 
book.  And  yet  when  you  look  for  it,  it 
isn’t  there,  and  you  come  to  the  realization 
that  it  has  only  been  a figment  of  your  own 
imagination!  Undoubtedly  we  have  all 
had  such  experiences. 

All  of  which  is  parentheteic  to  the 
thought  that  we  read  a fascinating  story  of 
the  dim  remote  ages  and  thoroughly  enjoy 
it,  we  recreate  in  our  mind’s  eye  the  char- 
acters and  settings  of  the  story,  but  when 
it  comes  to  actually  reconstructing  char- 
acters, scenes  and  action  of  such  a story  il- 
lusion disappears  and  reality  enters.  And 
cold  reality  too  often  brings  disillusion- 
ment. 

This  to  my  mind  is  one  of  the  dominant 
factors  mitigating  against  the  so-called  cos- 
tume play  of  any  period.  While  the  same 
story  told  with  the  art  of  the  novelist  is 
fascinating  in  the  extreme  and  we  find 
delicious  enjoyment  in  reading  the  flights 
of  fancy  of  Sir  Rider  Haggard,  Edgar 
Rice  Burroughs  and  H.  G.  Wells,  when 
it  come  to  translating  that  story  to  the 
screen  illusion  is  lost  and  the  reality  which 
invests  the  depicting  of  the  story  on  the 
screen  is  so  utterly  different  from  precon- 
ceived ideas  that  we  are  generally  disap- 
pointed. 

There  must  be  something  deeper,  some 
greater  appeal  to  the  interest  of  the  spec- 
tator to  offset  the  unreality  that  character- 
izes such  productions.  There  must  be 
some  emotional  appeal  to  which  he  makes 
instinctive  response.  Ben  Hur  presents 
such  an  appeal. 

This  phase  of  the  situation  has  been  in- 
terestingly summed  up  in  the  suggestion 
offered  by  a New  York  advertising  man 
■who  took  a flyer  in  motion  picture  adver- 
tising and  then  returned  to  his  beloved 
New  York  and  the  more  prosaic  exploita- 
tion of  the  necessities  of  life,  by  referring 
to  screen  entertainment  as  being  “predi- 
gested.” The  product  of  imagination, 
screen  stories  leave  so  little  to  the  imagina- 
tion when  translated  to  the  screen,  that 
they  in  truth  do  become  predigested. 

SHORTLY  after  receiving  Herr  Ehler’s 
manuscript  and  its  accompanying  letter 
I was  talking  with  a printer  who  has  de- 
voted his  life  to  the  study  and  application 
of  expressing  thoughts  in  terms  of  type 
faces.  With  the  enthusiasm  of  an  artist 
for  his  art  he  entered  into  an  animated  dis- 
cussion of  the  merits  and  interpretive  val- 
ues of  various  type  faces. 

“Type  is  the  vehicle  for  thought,”  he 
said,  “Make  your  printed  page  easy  to  read. 
Set  your  message  in  the  type  face  with 
which  your  readers  are  most  familiar  and 
they  will  read  it  quickly  and  easily.  Set 
is  in  unfamiliar  type  and  easy  reading  is 
retarded  through  the  necessity  for  ‘trans- 
lating’ the  type  and  puzzling  out  familiar 
words  in  unfamiliar  dress.” 


1925 


©irector 


21 


While  in  the  Warner  Brothers  production  of  “The  Cave  Man”  Matt 
Moore  packs  a realistic  punch  that  is  most  convincing  and  which  is 

THOROUGHLY  UNDERSTOOD  BY  THE  PRESENT  GENERATION. 


Give  the  public  what  it  is  in  the  habit  of 
seeing. 

In  that  paraphrase  of  the  old  printer’s 
comment  it  seems  to  me  is  summed  up  the 
psychology  of  motion  picture  production, 
and  is  expressed  at  least  one  reason  why  the 
costume  picture  as  such  has  so  universally 
proved  disappointing  at  the  box  office. 

Presenting  a story  of  the  Middle  Ages 
on  the  screen  with  all  its  attendant  quali- 
ties of  unfamiliar  costumes  and  unfamiliar 
settings  is  to  my  mind  very  much  like 
setting  a familiar  nursery  rhyme  in  old 
German  type.  The  unfamiliarity  of  the 
type  of  itself  would  “stop”  the  average 
reader.  The  fact  that  the  rhyme  is  ex- 
pressed in  English,  that  the  spelling  of  the 
words  is  just  the  same  as  one  is  accustomed 
to  see,  is  entirely  offset  by  the  unfamiliarity 
of  the  “costume”  worn  by  the  familiar 
characters.  It  isn’t  real. 

Such  a production,  for  instance  as  Rom- 
ola,  in  which,  despite  the  splendid  work 
done  by  Lillian  and  Dorothy  Gish,  the 
careful  characterizations  and  the  infinite 
attention  to  detail,  the  unfamiliarity  of 
characters,  costumes  and  background  des- 
troyed the  element  of  reality  and  mitigated 
against  the  box  office  success  of  that  pro- 
duction to  a marked  degree. 

On  the  other  hand,  indicative  of  “the 
exception  that  proves  the  rule”  Ben  Hur 
possesses  all  the  attributes  which  enter  into 
a successful  box  office  picture  and  the  mere 
fact  that  the  story  is  laid  in  its  entirety 
some  2000  years  ago  will  in  this  instance 
have  very  little  effect  on  the  final  result. 

And  while  this  may  sound  paradoxial, 
I believe  it  may  be  easily  explained.  Des- 
pite the  period  in  which  it  is  laid,  despite 
the  fact  that  it  is  essentially  a costume 
picture,  Ben  Hur  possesses  an  appeal  to 
the  American  public — to  the  world  public 
in  fact, — that  transcends  any  inhibition 
against  costume  pictures.  Ben  Hur  is  real, 
not  only  because  of  its  long  success  on  the 
American  stage,  not  only  because  of  the 
tremendous  popularity  of  General  Lew 
Wallace’s  book  on  which  that  play  was 
based,  but  because  in  Ben  Hur  are  sym- 
bolized religious  history  and  religious  teach- 
ings which  are  familiar  to  the  entire 
Christian  world.  As  such  there  is  to  Ben 
Hur  as  there  was  to  Quo  Vadis  an  intensity 
of  appeal  that  is  entirely  apart  from  other 
factors  which  so  universally  enter  into  the 
equation. 

GOING  back  into  “ancient  history” 
for  a bit,  some  thirteen  years  ago 
George  Kleine  brought  over  Quo  Vadis  an 
Italian-made  feature  production — the  first 
super  feature  to  be  exhibited  in  this  coun- 
try— and  startled  the  cinematic  world  with 
the  tremendous  success  that  picture  made 
as  a box  office  attraction. 

Quo  Vadis  was  an  instanteous  success 
throughout  the  country,  partly  because  it 
was  a novelty — a mammoth,  spectacular 
production  of  unheard  of  pretentiousness 
for  the  films — but  largely  because  it  visu- 


alized a story  with  which  the  whole  w orld 
was  familiar  and  because  it  visualized  a 
period  of  world  and  religious  history  known 
to  every  man  an  woman. 

Between  Quo  Vadis  and  Ben  Hur  there 
is  a distinct  parallel,  and  what  Quo  Vadis 
was  in  its  day  Ben  Hur  is  very  likely  to 
become  today.  And  yet  it  is  interesting 
to  note  that  every  effort  to  revive  Quo 
Vadis  has  been  disastrous. 

Going  back  to  that  Quo  Vadis  period,  an 
interesting  illustration  of  the  point  estab- 
lished is  found  in  the  fact  that  following 
the  success  of  that  production  other  pro- 
ductions of  similar  nature  were  imported 
and  in  every  instance  proved  a complete 
flop. 

With  all  the  power  of  Bulwer  Lytton’s 
literary  classic  back  of  it,  with  all  the 
spectacular  elements  that  such  a subject 
afforded,  The  Last  Days  of  Pompeii  proved 
a box  office  failure.  Similarly  Julius  Cea- 
sar,  Spartacus  at  Rome  and  Anthony  and 
Cleopatara  failed  utterly  to  measure  up  to 
the  standards  of  box  office  success  estab- 
lished by  Quo  Vadis. 

Marvelous  as  each  production  was, 
spectacular  to  a high  degree  splendidly 
done,  each  founded  on  a famous  story  or 
an  episode  in  the  history  of  the  world  with 
which  all  students  are  familiar,  these  pro- 
ductions lacked  that  seemingly  intangible 
quality  that  made  Quo  Vadis  a mighty  suc- 
cess. The  story  each  told,  while  fascinat- 
ing in  the  extreme,  true  to  the  period  in 
which  it  was  laid,  lacked  that  vital  ele- 
ment of  direct  individual  interest  which 


characterized  Quo  Vadis  and  which  is  to 
be  expected  in  Ben  Hur. 

Still  turning  back  the  leaves  of  memory 
I am  impressed  by  the  fact  that  in  nearly 
every  instance  plays  in  which  period  set- 
tings have  been  involved,  or  even  where 
the  entire  action  has  been  laid  in  foreign 
settings  with  costumes  peculiar  to  those 
settings,  have  proved  unsatisfactory  as  box- 
office  attractions. 

I have  already  referred  to  Romola  as  one 
instance.  There  have  been  a great  many 
others.  There  have  been,  too,  many  in- 
stances where  stories  have  been  laid  in 
foreign  settings  with  foreign  costuming 
predominate,  but  leavened  by  the  introduc- 
tion of  “home-folk”  in  familiar  garb.  For 
instance  there  was  Graustark  as  played  by 
Bushman  and  Bayne  and  the  more  recent 
Talmadge  version.  The  costume  element 
found  relief  in  the  fact  that  the  interest 
of  the  spectator  was  focused  on  an  Amer- 
ican hero. 

The  current  production  of  The  Merry 
Widow  is  another  case  in  point.  Not  only 
is  there  the  relief  afforded  by  the  presence 
of  the  troupe  of  American  players,  but 
there  is  a subtle  touch  of  World  War  in- 
fluence and  modernism  in  military  accoutre- 
ment, contrasting  with  the  old  world  cos- 
tumes. The  result  is  an  extremely  color- 
ful production  in  which  there  is  sufficient 
realism  as  interpreted  by  the  American  au- 
dience to  balance  the  unfamiliar  settings 
and  create  an  atmosphere  of  charm  and 
interest  for  the  whole.  Add  to  that  the 
(Continued  on  Page  50) 


22 


f MOTION  Ml  1 mi 

director 


November 


Does  the  Public  IV ant 

New  Stories 

An  Interview  with  ALBERT  LeVINO —by  Jimmie  Starr 


AS  a new  idea  any  sex  appeal? 

That  is  not  quite  the  status  of  our 
story,  yet  it  is  a good  opening  if 
nothing  more. 

Just  why  one  should  pick  upon  such  a 
busy  personage  as  Albert  Shelby  LeVino, 
I don’t  know,  but  according  to  this,  I did. 

And  believe  me  he  was  the  right  guy. 
He  more  than  hit  the  nail  on  the  head — 
he  socked  it.  If  there  was  ever  one  who 
brought  up  the  villainous  heat  of  the 
lower  regions  into  an  agrument,  which  is 
all  ready  white  hot  with  the  various  ver- 
sions of  pin-headed  producers,  then — well 
Battling  LeVino  is  ready  for  all  comeis. 

Tune  in  and  listen  to  some  high-pow- 
ered broadcasting  of  truth,  the  whole  truth 
and  nothing  but  the  truth. 

Word  has  been  gaily  circulating  around 
our  fair  Cinema  City  that  the  latest  wail 
(it  is  that)  of  the  many  production  heads 
of  the  motion  picture  industry  is  the  lack 
of  ‘ ‘new”  stories. 

“Perhaps,”  says  scenarist  Albert,  “they 
are  in  a conspiracy  to  keep  artistic  produc- 
ers— if  any — and  high-minded  studio  exe- 
cutives— if  any  again — from  obtaining  new 
stories.” 

Which  isn’t  such  a bad  crack,  come  to 
think  of  it. 

Just  at  present  about  ninety  per  cent  of 
the  studios  are  asking  for  new  stories. 
Maybe  this  is  ignorance — because  there 
isn’t  a new  story  under  the  sun  that  is 
commercially  sound. 

“A  short  time  ago,”  breaks  in  LeVino 
again,  “my  very  good  friend — and  at  that 
time  employer — Harry  Rapf,  blurted  out 
that  the  industry  really  needed  ‘not  new 
faces,  but  new  brains’,  which  included  only 
writers  and  directors. 

“ ‘Well,  Harry’,  1 asked  him,  ‘don’t  you 
think  you  might  also  include  some  new 
brains  as  production  heads?’  ” 

Harry  Rapf  chuckled  good-naturedly, 
which  was  most  natural  for  a man  in  that 
position,  and  he  nodded  his  head  in  Le- 
Vino’s  favor  of  suggestion. 

Many  of  these  so-called  “wise  ones”  of 
the  movies  seemingly  have  lost  their  knack 
of  guessing  just  what  the  public  wants. 
That  is  easy  to  analyze. 

“It’s  the  same  old  story,  over  and  over 


again,”  yells  Le  Vino  at  the  top  of  his 
voice.  “A  love  story — with  that  much  be- 
damned  happy  ending.” 

Those  who  don’t  agree  can  stop  here. 
This  is  fair  warning — if  you  go  farther, 
you  are  apt  to  get  yourself  into  a hot  and 
heavy  argument.  Watch  your  step ! 

\T  THAT  all  competent  directors  and 
VV  writers  know — at  least  we  hope 
they  know  that,”  says  LeVino,  “but  what 
some  producers  and  critics  seemingly  do 
not  know — is  that  the  Anglo-Saxon  amuse- 
ment-supporting public  wants,  or  ever  has 
wanted,  is  the  same  story  over  and  over 
again.” 

Perhaps  it  is  the  fact  that  we  all  are 
producing  the  same  story  which  will  awak- 
en in  the  public  a desire  for  something 
else.  But  nothing  in  the  literary  or  dra- 
matic scope  of  the  English  speaking  coun- 
tries justified  such  an  assumption. 

By  now  you  are  probably  doubting  that 
we  are  telling  the  same  old  story  on  the 
screen  and  always  have  been  telling  it.  Let 
us  permit  LeVino  again  to  have  the  floor: 

“The  first  thing  we  do  is  create  a girl 
or  woman  character  and  present  her  so 
that  the  audience  will  like  her.  Then  we 
construct  her  boy  or  man  counterpart  and 
present  him  so  that  the  audience  will  like 
him.  Now  we  bring  the  heroine  and  the 
hero  together — and  make  them  like  each 
other.  Simple,  isn’t  it? 

“H  ere  comes  the  dirty  work.  Even  a 
scenario  writer  is  a villain  at  heart  and 
with  a pen.  Just  at  the  moment  when 
said  heroine  and  hero  would  like  to  kiss 
and  start  to  live  happily  ever  after  in  spite 
of  the  whole  cock-eyed  world  (apologies 
to  Ben  Turpin),  the  weaver  of  the  yarn 
steps  boldly  forth  and  slaps  in  the  conflict 
element.  Still  simple,  isn’t  it? 

“This  new  move  separates  the  happy  pair 
both  mentally  and  physically.  From  then 
on  it  is  a battle — a mighty  one  for  the 
writer — to  keep  the  heroic  characters  from 
getting  together  again  in  peace,  amity  and 
Hollywood.  Here  is  the  catch:  The  very 
instant  the  conflict  element  is  defeated, 
the  adult  audience  reaches  for  its  collective 
hat  and  grab  the  children  by  the  arm. 
There  is  only  one  thing  to  do — shove  in 
‘The  End’  title  and  call  it  a day.” 


NOW  that  LeVino  has  succeeded  in 
making  himself  and  ideas  clear,  let  us 
chatter  on  with  other  stuff. 

Sometimes  the  old  formula — and  it  is 
that — is  varied,  seemingly  by  presenting  the 
heroine  and  hero  as  a married  couple.  This 
method,  some  times,  according  to  the 
scenario  writer’s  ability,  may  enhance  the 
conflict  element.  Probably  a deeper,  more 
sincere  thought  is  carried  out. 

The  age-old  gag  is  used  and  maintained 
so  as  to  part  the  husband  and  wife — and 
keep  them  apart  until  time  for  the  fade 
out. 

It  all  narrows  down  to  this:  The  only 
variation  in  the  presentation  of  the  form- 
ula lies  in  the  treatment.  There  have  been 
countless  ways  and  means  contrived  by  the 
most  subtle  minds  of  the  world,  which, 
after  all,  seems  to  be  the  only  thing  we 
are  seeking. 

We  are  not  after  new  stories,  but  forever 
seeking  and  endeavoring  to  discover  some 
newer  method  of  presenting  the  old  idea, 
which  is  my  idea  of  being  truly  original. 
To  be  a successful  film  wrriter  you  have  to 
be  fitted  and  able  to  “top”  the  newest  gag, 
and  ye  gods,  there  is  a new  one  born  every 
minute. 

Once  again  LeVino  hops  up  and  takes 
the  floor: 

“I  have  a beautiful,  large-type  copy  of 
the  Gesta  Rornanorum,  the  book  from 
which  William  Shakespeare  is  said  to  have 
secured  seventeen  of  his  thirty-four  (or  is 
it  thirty-five?)  plots.  I have  read  the  book 
often  and  most  diligently,  but  I can  not 
get  even  one  plot  from  those  old  monks’ 
tales  that  will  pass  any  studio  executive. 
Which  is  only  another  proof,  and  quite  an 
unnecessary  one,  that  Bill  Shakespeare  was 
and  still  is,  a better  craftsman  than  I am.” 
In  speaking  of  the  Gesta  Rornanorum  in 
which  are  the  seventeen  plays,  one  finds 
that  Shakespeare  was  really  guilty  of  an 
awful  lapse.  He  was  often  praised  for 
seventeen  different  plots,  but  there  is  an- 
other catch.  Those  seventeen  stories,  which 
include  all  the  plays  ending  happily,  are 
absolutely  identical  in  plot  formula — just 
as  all  our  really  successful  screen  stories, 
are. 


1925 


23 


y X MOTION  Wl  Tl/RC 

director 


Photo  by 
Wax  man 


King 

Vidor 


The  Man 
on  the 
Cover 


The  Story  of 
A Little  Parade 
When  the  Camera 
Jammed  and  a 
Big  Parade 
When  It  Didn’t. 


SOME  men  achieve  success,  fame  and 
distinction  when  Fate  places  Golden 
Opportunity  in  their  path  and  when, 
with  the  instincts  of  a football  player,  they 
pick  it  up  and  race  down  the  field  to  the 
goal. 

Some  men  achieve  success  solely  through 
their  grim,  dogged  persistency  and  their 
indomitable  resolve  to  accomplish  the  pur- 
pose for  which  they  set  out. 

Such  a man  is  King  Vidor,  whose  por- 
trait appears  on  the  cover  and  whose  most 
recent  film  triumph,  The  Big  Parade,  is 
already  on  the  tongue  of  the  professional 
world.  King  Vidor  has  “arrived”  because 
he  has  never  for  one  moment  forgotten 
the  objective  which  he  set  as  his  goal,  be- 


cause he  has  allowed  no  opportunity  pass 
that  might  further  his  purpose  and  because 
when  no  opportunity  presented  he  went 
out  and  made  one. 

When  the  films  and  King  Vidor  were 
both  young  there  was  born  within  him  an 
ambition  to  become  a dominant  figure  in 
the  motion  picture  world.  It  is  doubtful 
whether  at  that  time  he  concretely  visual- 
ized himself  as  a director.  Probably  he 
did  not.  But  in  him  is  the  creative  in- 
stinct— the  instinct  which  is  the  heritage 
of  every  boy  but  which  in  so  many  in- 
stances becomes  atrophied  with  adolescence 
and  manhood  and  is  completely  subjugated 
by  the  responsibilities  of  life  and  the  bur- 
den of  making  a living.  Combine  in  one 


individual  creativeness,  persistency  and 
ambition,  and  Destiny  will  read  the  result 
in  terms  of  success. 

When  King  Vidor  is  asked  about  his 
early  career  in  the  movies  he  becomes  re- 
trospective and  a twinkle  comes  into  his 
eye  as  he  tells  of  that  day  not  so  many 
years  ago  when,  as  a boy  in  Houston, 
Texas,  he  wagered  $5,  and  offered  to  sell 
his  bicycle  if  necessary  to  meet  the  wager, 
on  the  mechanics  of  motion  pictures.  It  is 
a story  that  he  delights  in  telling  and  in 
that  incident  he  believes  he  received  his 
first  genuine  inspiration  to  make  the  mov- 
ies his  life-work. 

The  films  were  still  comparatively  new 
in  those  days  and  the  story  opens  with 


24 


November 


t_  X # MOTION  W1UW 

director 


two  youngsters  standing  on  the  sidewalk 
in  front  of  a small  theatre,  blinking  in 
the  bright  Texas  sunlight  and  discussing 
the  motion  picture  paraphrase  of  “what 
makes  the  wheels  go  ’round.” 

“The  pictures  sure  moved,”  said  one  of 
the  boys,  “but  I bet  that  they  were  justed 
painted  on.” 

“No,  I think  that  they  were  photo- 
graphed with  some  kind 
of  a earner,”  replied  the 
other. 

“What’s  your  ‘bet’?” 

“I’ll  bet  you  $5,  even 
if  I have  to  sell  my  bi- 
cycle to  pay  you,”  King 
Vidor  returned,  “but  I 
won’t  have  to  because  I 
know  I am  right.” 

The  boys  carried 
their  dispute  before  the 
mayor  of  the  town  and 
it  was  explained  to  them 
that  moving  pictures 
were  indeed  photo- 
graphed by  a kind  of  a 
camera.  After  that 
nothing  mattered  to 
King  Vidor  but  this 
fascinating  business  of 
moving  pictures.  He 
had  to  know  more  about 
them. 

The  obvious  place  to 
turn  was  to  the  theatre 
where  they  were  shown 
and  he  succeeded  in  get- 
ting a job  at  the  Ex- 
celsior theatre  in  Hous- 
ton, his  first  job  in  the 
movies.  He  took  in 
tickets  and  acted  as  ush- 
er and  because  he  work- 
ed faithfully  and  per- 
sistently for  ten  hours 
a day,  he  was  paid  the 
munificent  salary  of 
$2.50  every  week. 

At  that  time  a feature  picture  was  a 
whole  two  reels  in  length  and  King  Vidor 
has  the  pleasure  of  seeing  it  twenty-four 
times  a day.  The  feature  picture  that 
marked  his  entrance  into  the  film  world 
as  doorman  and  usher  at  the  Excelsior 
theatre  was  called  Ben  Hur  and  he  thought 
it  was  a pretty  good  show.  But  after  he 
had  watched  the  brick  tumble  down  from 
the  wall  a number  of  times  he  decided 
that  it  might  have  been  better,  and  gradu- 
ally there  was  born  in  him  the  ambition 
to  make  a better  picture. 

Now,  that  ambition  to  write  a better 
story  or  make  a better  picture  has  started 
many  a man  in  whom  is  the  creative  in- 
stinct upon  the  road  that  leads  to  success. 

Fired  with  this  new  ambition  he  started 
in  to  learn  all  that  he  could  learn.  He 
had  the  operator — they  were  called  opera- 
tors and  not  projectionists  in  those  days — 
explain  to  him  all  the  intricacies  of  the 


projection  machine.  While  his  patrons 
gropingly  found  seats  for  themselves  in  the 
dark,  King  Vidor  diligently  studied  the 
technique  of  the  silent  drama,  counting 
the  number  of  scenes  and  analyzing  the 
modus  operandl. 

Then  he  began  to  write  scenarios  and 
when  he  had  fifteen  or  twenty  good  ones 
he  sent  them  away  to  various  moving  pic- 


ture organizations.  They  must  have  been 
good  ones,  for  they  never  came  back.  In 
fact  he  never  heard  of  them  again. 

Came  a day  when  there  was  to  be  a 
parade  of  soldiers  in  the  town  and  an  ad- 
vertisement appeared  in  the  paper  asking 
for  someone  to  make  moving  pictures  of  the 
parade  for  a news  reel.  He  promptly  got 
the  job,  and  then  remembered  that  he  didn’t 
have  a camera. 

But  that  was  soon  solved.  There  was 
a movie  camera  in  the  town  owned  by  a 
chauffeur  with  whom  he  promptly  entered 
into  business  arrangements,  agreeing  to  split 
the  profits,  if  any. 

Things  were  moving  smoothly  until  the 
chauffeur  learned  that  he  had  to  drive  in 
the  parade  and  if  the  picture  were  to  be 
taken  King  Vidor  would  have  to  turn  the 
crank  himself.  This  was  something  dif- 
ferent again,  but  here  is  where  the  per- 
sistency of  the  man  becomes  evident.  Like 
most  heroes  of  fact  or  fiction  he  was  not  to 


be  daunted  and  he  practiced  that  night 
operating  the  camera  without  film.  The 
next  morning,  at  least  three  hours  before 
the  parade  was  to  start,  he  was  stationed 
on  the  roof  of  the  Odd  Fellows  Hall  with 
his  camera  trained  on  the  street  down 
which  the  soldiers  were  to  march. 

At  last  the  procession  came  into  sight. 
The  drum  major  in  all  his  glory  whirled 
his  baton  just  in  the 
range  of  the  lens  and 
King  Vidor  began  to 
crank.  There  was  a 
crumpling  sound  inside 
the  mysterious  box.  The 
handle  jammed.  The 
boy  ran  frantically  with 
his  camera  into  a dark 
corridor  and  with  excit- 
ed fingers  straightened 
out  the  buckled  film. 
But  when  he  rushed 
back  to  the  roof,  the 
parade  had  passed. 

Thus  ended  the  first 
episode,  but  like  many 
episodes  it  proved  but 
the  beginning  of  anoth- 
er. He  and  the  chauf- 
feur organized  a com- 
pany. Vidor  wrote  the 
story,  played  the  leading 
role  and,  with  the  help 
o f different  colored 
beards,  played  other 
characters  as  well. 

A trip  to  New  York 
followed  and  his  intro- 
duction to  that  myster- 
ious procedure  termed 
Distribution. 

After  New  York, 
Texas  lost  its  appeal  as 
a moving  picture  locale. 
Besides  Hollywood  was 
then  becoming  the 
center  of  the  film 
wold.  And  so  to  Holly- 
wood he  came. 

For  a few  years  he  did  a little  bit  of 
everything:  acting,  writing,  assisting  as  di- 
rector and  building  sets.  Every  little 
while  he  insisted  that  he  could  direct  pic- 
tures and  finally  was  given  an  opportunity 
to  make  a kid  comedy.  It  was  a good  one 
and  he  made  nine  more.  But  comedies 
didn’t  satisfy  his  ambition.  He  wanted  to 
create  something  more  real,  something  more 
tangible,  something  more  lasting.  And  so 
he  quit  making  comedies. 

But  getting  a chance  to  direct  a real 
feature  presented  many  difficulties  and  a 
few  weeks  later  he  was  sitting  on  the  extra 
bench  of  a casting  office.  Tiring  of  the 
interminable  waiting  his  imagination  sought 
something  to  occupy  itself  with,  he  began 
evolving  in  his  mind  the  plot  of  a feature 
production.  It  was  then  that  he  conceived 
the  big  idea,  and  sitting  on  the  extra  bench 
he  worked  out  the  detailed  plot  of  The 

(Continued  on  Page  64) 


44  TV  /T  EN  in  squads,  in  platoons,  in  regiments  . . . 

\\  /I  toiling  through  the  sticky  mud  . . . falling 
J^Y X out  bv  the  roadside  to  bandage  blistered  feet, 
or  to  buy  food  from  sad  faced  villagers,  onlv 
again  to  take  up  the  interminable  drive  to  the  front.  And 
with  the  men  the  guns,  big  guns,  medium-sized  guns,  little 
guns  . . . guns  in  column  and  guns  in  convoy  . . . guns 
behind  prespiring  horses  and  snorting  tractors  . . . their 
muzzles  lurching,  dipping,  careening  through  the  gray  fog 
like  wave-tossed  dories  on  a stormy  sea  . . . shiny  guns, 
rusty  guns;  dripping  guns,  guns  stuck  in  the  mud  and  sur- 
rounded by  swearing,  sweating  men,  tugging,  pulling, 
straining  in  that  laborious,  ominous  purposeful  crowding 
on  and  on  in  The  Big  Parade  to  the  front. 

For  the  first  time  a director  has  caught  and  trans- 
planted to  celluloid,  both  the  immensity  of  the  World  War 
and  the  underlying  spirit  of  the  American  Expeditionary 
Force.  In  the  foregoing  lines  one  overseas  veteran  tells  of 
his  impressions  of  The  Big  Parade.  On  the  opposite  page 
Robert  M.  Finch,  a man  who  was  there,  tells  his  impres- 
sions of  this  Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer  production  in  which 
King  Vidor  has  created  the  supreme  achievement  of  a 
brilliant  directorial  career.  In  his  first  attempt  at  motion 
pictures,  King  Vidor’s  camera  jammed  when  shooting  a 
small-town  parade,  but  when  The  Big  Parade  came  along 
the  camera  didn’t  jam  and  King  Vidor  has  given  to  the 
world  what  is  considered  as  the  truest  picture  of  the  World 
War  that  has  been  filmed. 


25 


1925 


fc  ~\  MOTION  Plt  TLTtU 

director 


An  Overseas  Veterans 


Tom  O’Brien,  John  Gilbert  and  Karl  Dane,  as  the  “three  musketeers”  in  “The  Big  Parade” 


™E  Big  Parade 

By  Robert  M.  Finch 


’EST  LA  GUERRE. 

Despite  the  idiomatic  significance 
which  attaches  to  that  phrase  so 
commonly  on  the  tongue  of  the  Frenchman 
during  the  World  War,  its  broad  interpre- 
tation sums  up  so  completely  my  impres- 
sions of  The  Bit/  Parade  that  I sat  back  in 
my  seat  during  an  advance  showing  of  this 
really  worth-while  production  of  war-time 
France  with  but  the  one  thought: 

It  is  the  war! 

In  every  sense  of  the  word,  "It  is  the 
war!” — a realistic,  vivid  portrayal  of  war- 
time France  and  the  A.E.F.  that  brings 
back  a flood  of  memories  and  revives  as 
has  no  other  screen  production  that  I have 


seen  anywhere  those  days  of  the  “big  push.” 

The  Big  Parade  to  me  is  not  just  a war 
picture.  It  is  in  all  reality,  a picture  of 
the  world  war. 

Never  have  I seen  the  spirit  of  those 
war  days  caught  and  translated  to  either 
printed  page  or  silver  sheet  with  such 
fidelity,  such  accuracy  of  detail,  such  rem- 
iniscent touches  of  those  little  things  that 
remain  so  vividly  in  the  mind  of  every 
overseas  veteran.  Surely  author,  director 
and  cast  must  have  been  there.  It  doesn’t 
seem  possible  that  realism  could  have  been 
obtained  otherwise! 

The  Biff  Parade  is  to  me  a dynamic, 
vital,  gripping  presentation  of  the  war  it- 


self— of  the  Great  Experience.  For  the 
first  time  anywhere  it  brings  the  cataclysm 
of  the  age  to  the  inner  consciousness  of  all 
who  view  it,  in  all  its  awful  majesty,  its 
ruthless  dominance  of  everything  and  the 
pitiful  insignificance  of  the  human  atom 
engulfed  in  its  tremendous  eruption. 

There  have  been  numerous  war  pictures 
and  war  stories  in  which  isolated  fragments 
have  been  vividly  reproduced,  but  in  most 
of  these  the  vital  element  of  realism  seemed 
to  be  lacking.  The  soldiers  depicted  on  the 
screen  seemed  more  like  automatons — 
mere  puppets  in  the  hands  of  the  director 
— than  like  men  who  had  been  there,  who 
(Continued  on  Page  28) 


a£S>  - 


% 


Photo  by  Ruth  Harriet  Louise 

Renee  yddoree 

“Mimi”  of  war-time 
France,  Renee  Adoree  has,  in  The  Big  Parade , 
an  exceptional  opportunity  to  give  to  the  screen 
the  best  work  of  her  screen  career,  an  opportu- 
nity that  she  has  fully  lived  up  to.  She  cer- 


tainly knows  her  France  and  in  The  Big  Parade 
she  has  done  herself  and  King  Vidor  proud.  As 
the  true-hearted,  bubbling  “Madelon”  of  the 
villages,  she  astonishes  with  her  impetuousness 
and  enthralls  with  her  charming  presentation  of 
that  sublime  faith  that  gives  all  and  asks,  Oh! 
so  little  in  return. 


Photo  by  Ruth  Harriet  Louise 

Tnhn  CiHhprt0i  the  many  roles  in 

jUfJ/l  vjWi/c  / £ which  he  has  captivated 

the  hearts  of  the  theatre- 
going public,  John  Gilbert’s  portrayal  of  Jim 
Apperson  in  King  Vidor’s  production,  The  Big 
Parade,  is  undoubtedly  his  best.  Dumped  from 
the  mansions  of  the  avenues  into  the  dirt  and 
the  grime  of  war-time  France,  many  a scion  of 


the  aristocracy  discovered  himself  in  the  inferno 
of  The  Front  where  Death  stalked  ever  near. 
Typifying  the  flower  of  American  manhood  who 
went  into  the  war  through  circumstances,  his 
delineation  of  the  boy  who  learned  to  forget 
himself  and  become  a real  soldier  in  that  ghastly 
hell  of  No  Man’s  Land  will  not  soon  be  for- 
gotten. 


28 


November 


©irector 


. . . The  Boy  crowded  into  the  war  . . . The  Girl  he  left  behind 
him.  The  Rookie  cantonment — it  all  had  been  done  before  and  I 
set  myself  to  see  “just  another  war  picture.” 

Came  a long  shot  down  a sloping  hill  with  shielding  poplars 
lining  the  macadam  road,  a road  that  glistened  and  shone  in  the 
drizzling  rain,  while  down  the  road  rocked  seemingly  endless 
columns  of  marching  troops. 

Indifference  fell  from  me  like  an  impatiently  discarded  mantle. 

This  was  France  itself — the  road  from  Dombasle  to  Rendezvous 
du  Chasse  over  which  The  Big  Parade  swept  in  1917. 

Memories  flooded  over  me  and  I was  back  in  France.  As  the 
long  shot  faded  into  a close-up  of  weary,  set  faces  plodding  on  and 
on  in  The  Big  Parade  it  was  the  faces  of  my  war-time  buddies  that 
1 saw  on  the  screen. 

The  scene  changed.  A typical  French  village  flashed 
before  me  and  I laughed  aloud  in  delicious  reminiscence  as 
the  men  fell  out  around  a manure  pile.  I could  smell  the 
musty  straw  in  the  loft  and  the  burned  grease  from  the 
ponirne  de  terre  frie.  I pictured  Laurence  Stallings  the 
author,  among  the  men  of  that  platoon.  Fie  surely  must 
been  there  ! 

Then  the  “Three  Musketeers!”  What  platoon 
in  the  A.E.F.  did  not  have  them  ! The  arrogant 
corporal,  the  Swede  iron-moulder  and  the  pampered 
scion  of  wealth — all  engulfed  in  the  maelstrom  of 
The  Big  Parade — buddies  by  chance,  not  by  choice. 
In  the  soldier’s  retrospect,  irresistibly  real  and  funny 
now — not  so  funny  then  ! 

Expectantly  I waited  for  the  introduction  of  the 
“Madelon,”  the  laughing,  self-confident  madamoiselle 
of  all  France,  without  whom  no  picture  of  the  war 
would  be  complete.  Wistfully,  I found  myself  hoping 
that  she  would  be  real. 

Then  I saw  her,  standing  in  the  gate. 
The  little  smiling  “Mimi”  of  the  cross- 
roads village  whom  every  soldier  in  France 
knew.  The  same  semi-sophisticated  bold- 
ness, the  same  little  mannerisms. 


From  the  alleys  and  barrooms  they  came  and  were  caught  in  the  swirl 
of  “The  Big  Parade.”  Tom  O’Brien  portrays  a difficult  role  as  one  of 
the  “Three  Musketeers”  in  an  admirable  way.  Every  overseas  veteran 
KNEW  HIS  COUNTERPART  IN  FRANCE.  In  “The  BlG  P.ARADE”  O’BrIEN  APPEARS 
as  an  East  Side  Bartender  drafted  into  the  war.  His  instincts  of  self-pres- 
ervation MADE  HIM  A CORPORAL.  HlS  NATURAL  ARROGANCE  OVERCAME  HIS  DIS- 
CRETION AND  HE  WAS  REDUCED  TO  A PRIVATE. 


had  plodded  weary  hours  through  drizzling 
rain  and  sticky  mud,  who  had  smelled  a 
shrapnel  burst  and  had  had  their  ears  deaf- 
ened by  the  pounding  of  the  big  guns  at 
the  front. 

But  in  The  Biff  Parade  are  found  not 
only  the  individual  touches  which  are  still 
fresh  in  the  memories  of  overseas  veterans, 
but  underlying  the  whole  picture  is  that 
dominant  note  which  was  so  evident  all 
through  the  American  doughboy’s  experi- 
ences “Over  there,” — the  ceaseless  inter- 
minable push  to  the  front ; the  endless 
stream  of  olive-drab  figures  forging  on  and 
on  and  on  in  The  Big  Parade. 

It  required  no  conscious  flight  of  imagi- 
nation to  transport  me  back  to  those  days  in 
Belgium  and  the  Argonne.  Even  while 
my  attention  was  riveted  on  the  screen,  in 
imagination’s  eye  was  the  picture  that  every 
veteran  of  the  A.E.F.  will  have a pic- 

ture of  overcast  clouds  and  drizzling  rain 
and  through  the  rain  a seemingly  endless 
stream  of  men  and  guns. 


And  over  it  all  the  subdued,  insistent, 
sullen  rumble  of  the  artillery  in  that  vague 
distance  to  the  front,  like  the  bass  notes 
of  some  colossal  organ  or  the  vibrant,  domi- 
nating pulsing  tom-tom  of  African  war 
drums.  Day  by  day  growing  ever  louder, 
more  insistent,  more  compelling  as  the 
weary  columns  struggled  on.  At  night 
more  weird  as  across  the  distant  horizon 
flickered  a fitful  glare  in  accompaniment 
to  the  eternal  reverberation. 

What  overseas  man  can  ever  forget  it? 

FRANKLY,  I confess  that,  having  been 
an  infinitesimal  atom  in  the  mighty  en- 
semble of  war  machinery  that  Marshal 
Foch  poured  north  to  crush  the  Hun,  it 
was  with  some  skepticism  that  I dropped 
into  a seat  at  Grauman’s  Egyptian  to  wit- 
ness an  advance  showing  of  The  Biff  Pa- 
rade. 

Somewhat  indifferently  1 followed  the 
trend  of  the  early  sequences.  Before  me 
on  the  silver  sheet  flashed  the  usual  prelude 


Renee  Adoree,  as  Melisande,  is  as 
Frenchy  as  her  name  and  one  needs  no 
exercise  of  imagination  to  fit  her  into  both 
role  and  atmosphere.  She  just  belongs. 
She  is  real.  Back  went  my  recollection 
to  Erize  la  Petite,  or  was  it  at  Montigny 
du  Rue  that  I knew  her  counterpart? 

Now  John  Gilbert,  as  Jim  Apperson, 
steps  out  of  the  The  Big  Parade  and  reg- 
isters as  an  individual.  He  meets  Meli- 
sande and  gets  busy  with  his  French  dic- 
tionary. I venture  that  this  clever  bit  of 
pantomime  will  be  as  refreshingly  remini- 
scent to  every  veteran  who  sees  The  Biff 
Parade  as  it  was  to  me. 

Then  the  scene  where  Melisande  intro- 
duces her  soldier-wooer  to  her  family  and 
friends  . . . The  stilted  welcome  . . . The 
adulation  of  the  French  for  their  heroes 
as  they  read  their  letters  from  the  front 
. . . Their  fervid  and  dramatic  patriotism. 
It  is  all  there  and  will  bring  back  memo- 
ries to  many  through  its  adroit  realism. 

The  arrival  of  the  mail  . . . Slim’s  disap- 
pointment at  not  receiving  a letter,  a quick- 
ened bit  of  artistry  . . . The  corporal  kicks 
the  wrong  man  and  loses  his  stripes  . . . 
Slim  gets  the  promotion.  As  you  see  it  de- 
picted on  the  screen,  so  it  was  done  in 
France,  as  I am  sure  every  overseas  veteran 
will  agree. 


1925 

Moving  up! 

The  confusion  of  assembly  and  en- 
trainment is  admirably  portrayed  . . . 

The  lover’s  parting,  an  impassioned  scene 
so  typical  of  the  French  who  realized  the 
ominous  possibilities  of  the  last  march  in 
The  Big  Parade  from  which  so  many  dear 
to  them  had  failed  to  return. 

The  front  at  last. 

The  clumsy  deployment  when  for  the 
first  time  they  faced  the  Great  Unknown, 
half-dazed  by  the  appalling  cannonade  of 
the  covering  barrage  . . . Their  baptisme 
de  feu,  as  the  French  so  naively  phrased 
it  . . . The  awkward  stilted  advance  with 
lagging  feet.  . . . The  crushing  clutch  on 
the  rifle  stocks  . . . Bayonets  fixed  . . . The 
seeming  indifference  to  companions  as  the 
air  rains  steel.  No  flights  of  imagination 
are  necessary  to  sense  that  the  man  who 
engineered  these  scenes  had  been  there  him- 
self. 

Artillery  laying  down  the  barrage  . . . 
The  dancing  75’s  with  their  perspiring 
crews  . . . The  155  howitzers  and  rifles 
splashing  the  mud  as  they  buck  back  on 
their  trails  in  recoil  . . . One  could  almost 
hear  the  metallic  ring  of  the  contracting 
tubes  and  smell  the  acrid  back  flare  from 
the  muzzles. 

The  sputtering  of  the  German  machine 
guns  . . . Even  sensed  through  the  eye 
alone  one  seems  to  hear  subsconsciously 
their  vibratory  rat-tat-tat  as  they  belch 
their  deadly  streams  of  lead. 

Hand  grenades,  and  the  Heinies  sur- 
rendering before  the  grenades  are  heaved 
. . . With  eyes  transfixed  before  them,  the 
men  in  the  first  wave  stumbling  on,  bayo- 
nets at  the  ready,  seemingly  oblivious  to 
the  upraised  arms  of  the  surrendering  Ger- 
mans. To  my  mind  this  is  one  of  the 
really  great  hits  of  the  picture  in  its  con- 
ception. Only  the  seasoned  veteran  would 
realize  that  prisoners  are  to  be  taken  by 
the  second  wave  and  the  moppers  up. 


NO  man’s  land,  with  its  eerie  lights  . . . 

The  “Th  ree  Musketeers”  in  a shell 
hole  . . . Jim’s  rebellion  at  the  awfulness 
of  it  . . . Bull’s  dazed  attitude  . . . Jim’s 
crude  indifference  to  the  situation.  A re- 
markable portrayal  of  the  manner  in  which 
different  men  stood  up  under  fire. 

Then  the  call  to  go  to  the  front  . . Slim’s 
clever  ruse  to  gain  the  opportunity  . . . 
Jim’s  high  strung  spirit  and  his  hysterical 
anxiety  to  find  his  buddy.  Here  enters 
what  was  to  me  one  of  the  most  vividly 
realistic  episodes  of  the  picture. 

Jim  has  the  last  German,  desperately 
wounded,  completely  at  his  mercy.  Goad- 
ed to  uncontrollable  fury  by  the  fate  of 
Slim  out  there  in  the  dark,  Jim  sees  red. 
Here  is  the  enemy  delivered  into  his  hands. 
Slim  is  out  there,  wounded,  perhaps  dead. 
Somebody  must  pay.  He  raises  his  arm 
to  strike  but  is  arrested  by  the  agony  in 
the  Hun’s  face.  Sanity  comes  back  to  him 
and,  softened  by  pity,  he  finds  himself 


©irector 


They  were  all  Americans  under  the  skin.  As  the  big  clumsy  Swede 

IRON  MOLDER,  K.ARL  DANE  IS  RESPONSIBLE  FOR  MOST  OF  THE  LAUGHS  IN  “The 

Big  Parade.”  Phlegmatic,  slow  thinking,  exhilaratingly  funny,  Slim, 

THE  CORPORAL  WHO  WENT  TO  HIS  DEATH  WITH  A FRESH  CUD  OF  TOBACCO  IN 
HIS  CHEEK,  IS  ONE  OF  THE  CLEVEREST  CHARACTERIZATIONS  ON  THE  SCREEN. 


handing  his  enemy  his  last  cigaret.  A 
picture  not  soon  forgotten. 

I once  saw  a corporal  under  very  similar 
circumstances,  mortally  wounded  and  fren- 
zied with  pain,  seize  a rifle  and  bayonet 
a defenseless  German  prisoner,  only  to 
throw  himself  on  the  ground  weeping  hy- 
sterically with  genuine  grief  when  he  real- 
ized what  an  awful  thing  he  had  done. 

It  is  such  poignant,  vivid  episodes  as  this, 
realistically  done,  presenting  at  the  same 
time  the  actual  horrors  of  way  and  its  truly 
human  side,  that  register  so  compelling  on 
the  consciousness  of  the  overseas  soldier 
who  sees  The  Big  Parade. 

Never  before  has  the  intense  drama  of 
life  and  death  in  the  Great  Experience  been 
so  powerfully  reproduced  in  its  intimate, 
human  quality.  Never  before  have  the 
humorous  aspects  and  ironical  absurdities  in 
the  routine  life  of  soldier  on  foreign  soil 


been  presented  with  such  delicious  drollery. 
Never  before  has  the  consuming  ardor  of 
patriotism  in  the  French  that  makes  the 
chanting  of  “The  Marsellaise”  a religion 
with  them  been  so  superbly  exemplified. 

So  much  for  the  picture  as  an  epic  of 
the  Great  Conflict. 

I frankly  believe  that  no  overseas  soldier 
can  view  The  Big  Parade  without  being 
carried  back  to  those  drab  days  in  France 
and  without  being  thrilled  as  I was  thrilled 
by  its  masterful  portrayal  of  The  Great 
Experience.  I am  confident  that  it  stands 
the  inspection  of  its  severest  critics — the 
men  whose  fortitude  it  extolls. 

Of  course  some  of  the  scenes  depicted 
are  ugly  and  unrefined  in  spots.  The  World 
War  was  no  afternoon  soiree.  If  it  all 
were  pretty  to  look  at  it  would  not  be  war. 

To  me  The  Big  Parade  is  a dynamic, 
(Continued  on  Page  59) 


ITN  , MOTTO*.  Ml  U«l 

->(l  director  November 

Th6NIGHT  B RIDE  T 


Synopsis  of  Preceding  Chapters 

WHEN  Cynthia  Stockton,  motoring  home 
from  the  country  club,  observed  that  the 
Ogre's  castle,  which  had  been  long  va- 
cant, was  tenanted,  her  curiosity  was  aroused. 

She  soon  learned  that  young  Stanley  War- 
rington, Jr.,  owner  of  the  Warrington  fleet  of 
steamships,  had  purchased  the  place.  Stanley 
hated  anything  that  pertained  to  the  sea  and 
was — according  to  his  friends,  a bug  on  writ- 
ing. He  also  had  suffered  from  a disastrous 
love  affair  and  with  his  man  Biggies,  a gruff 
old  one-legged  ex  sea  captain  who  had  been 
given  charge  of  Stanley  since  he  was  a boy — 
the  young  man  went  into  retirement,  refusing 
to  meet  his  neighbors  and  treating  everyone 
with  scant  courtesy. 

This  piqued  Cynthia  who  was  used  to  adu- 
lation and  admiration  from  the  male  members 
of  the  exclusive  colony  in  which  she  lived. 
Her  friendly  advances  repulsed,  she  became 
angry  and  accepted  Addison  Walsh,  a wealthy 
banker,  much  older  than  she,  who  had  become 
her  father's  creditor  for  huge  sums  advanced 
the  Stockton  factories. 

Mrs.  Stockton — whose  lavish  expenditures 
had  made  her  a social  leader — sponsored  this 
match  and  was  delighted  when  the  ring  was 
finally  placed  on  Cynthia’s  finger. 

Meanwhile,  Stanley  bought  the  local  news- 
paper as  an  outlet  for  his  penchant  for  writ- 
ing— and  started  in  to  expose  Walsh's  nefari- 
ous financial  schemes  which  made  the  two 
men  bitter  enemies. 

But  through  it  all,  the  call  of  youth  kept 
this  young  woman  hater  in  Cynthia's  mind,  al- 
though she  had  given  him  up  as  a bad  job 
and  hated  him.  She  slyly  sent  him  an  invi- 
tation to  her  birthday  fete  given  at  night  on 
the  Stockton  lawn  on  a lavish  scale — and 
caught  the  young  man  hovering  in  the  shad- 
ows, looking  on.  It  thrilled  her,  for  his  pres- 
ence proved  the  potency  of  her  charms  and 
she  knew  she  had  secretly  penetrated  his  armor 
of  sex  hatred. 

Then  came  a disagreeable  clash  between 
Walsh  and  Stanley — once,  over  his  dog  which 
had  nearly  caused  an  accident  to  the  Walsh 
car — and  again,  over  his  open  articles  of  con- 
demnation in  his  newspaper.  These  two  meet- 
ings had  been  in  Stanley’s  favor  and  convinced 
Cynthia  that  she  was  affianced  to  an  elderly, 
choleric  man  with  a mean  tongue  and  a vile 
disposition. 

To  add  to  her  discomfort — she  knew  Stanley 
condemned  her  with  every  look  for  what 
seemed  to  all  appearances  the  sale  of  herself 
to  the  banker  to  save  the  Stockton  fortune. 

Novi  go  on  viith  the  story. 

Fifth  Installment 

THE  Poodle  Dog  Inn  was  a notorious 
place.  Nestling  in  a curve  just  off 
the  highway  about  twelve  miles  out 
of  town,  this  ancient  tavern  had  been  con- 
verted by  one  Louis  Henri — once  maitre 
d’hotel  of  a well-known  hostelry — into  a 
modern  roadhouse. 

The  quality  of  Louis’  food  was  worth 
the  prices  charged.  The  average  respec- 
table man  shunned  the  Poodle  Dog  for 
sundry  reasons.  But  young  men  of  wealth, 
and  married  men  whose  wives  were  away, 


By  Frederic  Chapin 

found  the  service  and  seclusion  to  their 
liking. 

Out  of  nowhere,  Louis  managed  to  con- 
jure famous  brands  of  liquors  and  wines 
of  rare  vintage. 

I hose  whom  he  knew,  he  trusted  and 
served.  Louis  knew  Addison  Walsh  by 
virtue  of  his  past  patronage,  and  a large 
room  upstairs  was  already  prepared  for 
that  worthy  gentleman’s  bachelor  dinner. 
It  was  to  be  his  parting  shot  at  the  high 
life — a last  embrace,  as  it  were — of  the 
Goddess  of  Frolic,  before  entering  the 
sedate  portals  of  marital  life. 

For  the  past  year,  AValsh  had  shunned 
the  primrose  path.  But  the  urge  of  reck- 
less abandon  in  his  salacious  soul,  called 
for  one  last  fling — a rip-snorting  revel — 
one  more  of  the  good  old  times  when  jazz- 
crazed  men  and  women  could  whoop  ’er 
up  into  a Bacchanalian  orgy. 

Walsh,  immaculate  in  evening  dress, 
was  the  first  to  arrive.  He  surveyed  the 
appointments  of  the  table  with  satisfaction. 
Casting  his  gastronomical  eye  down  the 
menu,  he  admitted  it  to  show  promise  of 
being  a feast  fit  for  Epicurus  himself. 

The  dapper  little  Frenchman  stood  by 
awaiting  the  verdict. 

“Excellent,  Louis,”  said  Walsh  approv- 
ingly. 

Louis  bowed  stiffly,  his  body  bending 
like  a hinge. 

“You’re  sure  there  is  no  danger  of  any- 
one disturbing  us?”  Walsh  asked. 

“Non — non — Monsieur,”  Louis  assured 
him.  “Ze  doors  are  locked,  ze  shuttaires 
are  closed,  ze  lights  are  out  and  ze  place, 
she  belong  to  you.” 

The  portly  host  pulled  out  an  expensive 
perfecto,  Louis  supplied  the  light  and  hur- 
ried away  to  turn  the  bottles  in  the  cool- 
ers; while  Walsh  drew  in  the  fragrant 
smoke  and  rocked  back  and  forth  on  his 
patent  leathers  in  complete  accord  with 
the  world. 

His  guests  had  been  chosen  with  care. 
No  outsiders  would  ever  know  what  trans- 
pired there  that  night. 

But  a benign  Providence  works  in  mys- 
terious ways. 

It  so  happened — that  very  day,  the  ad- 
vance agent  of  a girl  show  . . . one  of 
those  cheap  musical  melanges,  that  depends 
upon  the  scanty  attire  of  its  chorus  for  its 
drawing  power,  dropped  into  the  office  of 
the  Daily  Eagle.  They  were  due  to  play 
in  Sterling  the  following  night. 

Bill  Dobbins,  alone  in  the  office  at  the 
time,  attended  to  his  wants.  The  agent, 


always  glad  when  his  onerous  duties  were 
over,  rolled  one  of  his  own  and  leaned 
back  in  his  chair.  Casually  he  picked  up 
a copy  of  the  paper  and  the  bond  article 
caught  his  eye. 

“Say!”  he  exclaimed,  with  more  than 
passing  interest.  “This  Walsh  feller  must 
be  some  pun’kins  around  these  diggings, 
ain’t  he?” 

“About  as  important  as  a pumpkin — or  a 
squash,”  replied  Bill. 

“He  must  have  a bankroll.” 

“He  sure  has.” 

“He’s  the  guy  that  bought  our  show 
for  tonight.” 

“Bought  it?”  Bill  repeated,  pricking  up 
his  ears. 

“That’s  what  I said — bought  it — for  one 
performance.  We  were  due  to  give  a show 
in  Milo  tonight,  when  this  bird  blows  in 
and  writes  a check  for  the  amount  of  the 
receipts.” 

Bill  pondered. 

“Wonder  what  little  Addy  did  that  for,” 
he  said  musingly. 

The  agent  smiled  knowingly  and  hitched 
his  chair  up  closer. 

“Keep  this  under  your  hat,”  he  whis- 
pered confidentially.  “There’s  going  to  be 
a wild  party  tonight — at  the  Poodle  Dog 
— Walsh’s  bachelor  dinner.  His  last  leap 
into  the  realm  of  wine,  woman  and  jazz. 
The  song  stuff  is  out.  Our  twelve  beauti- 
ful queens  of  burlesque  are  going  to  be 
there — that’s  why  he  had  to  pay  for  the 
whole  show.  And  after  the  sixth  cocktail, 
it  takes  six  to  get  them  started  if  they 
don’t  cut  loose  and  rip  the  chandeliers  off 
the  walls,  then  I ain’t  never  seen  them  in 
action.” 

Bill  surveyed  the  speaker  akin  to  affec- 
tion. A holy  joy  flooded  his  soul.  He 
wanted  to  rise  up  and  ease  himself  in  one 
unearthly  whoop.  Instead,  he  reached  into 
his  desk  for  a box,  and  skidded  it  over  to- 
wards the  agent. 

“Have  a cigar,”  he  said  nonchalantly. 
“Take  a couple — a fist  full.  They’re  good, 
we  smoke  ’em  ourselves.” 

The  surprised  man  took  his  quota  and 
soon  left  the  office.  Bill  grabbed  up  the 
’phone  and  conversed  with  Stanley.  His 
“Uh  huh,” — “You  bet” — “Sure  thing” — 
and  “Leave  it  to  me”,  seemed  to  punctuate 
certain  terse  commands  from  the  other  end 
of  the  wire. 

That  was  why  Bill  Dobbins  was  seen 
to  park  his  motor  cycle  near  the  Poodle 
Dog  at  exactly  nine  thirty  that  same  night. 


192  5 


31 


©irector 


Several  limousines  were  lined  up  in  the 
carriage  shed  while  the  chauffeurs,  by  the 
aid  of  a flash  light,  indulged  in  a game  of 
crap. 

The  faint  sound  of  a phonograph,  ming- 
ling with  the  shrill  laughter  of  feminine 
voices,  floated  from  the  darkened  tavern, 
and  Bill  knew  the  jamboree  was  on. 

It  was  no  trick  to  shin  up  a post  to  the 
upper  balcony,  where  a tell-tale  light 
through  a slit  between  the  lowered  curtain 
and  the  frame  of  the  window,  gave  promise 
of  a glimpse  inside. 

Bill  parked  himself  comfortably,  glued 
his  eyes  to  the  window,  and  found  him- 
self the  happy  owner  of  a ringside  seat 
for  the  show. 

The  party  had  reached  the  stage  of  a 
lewd  and  licentious  riot.  The  twelve 
queens  of  grease-paint  were  making  the 
most  of  their  sudden  plunge  into  an  un- 
limited supply  of  pre-war  hootch.  Walsh, 
maudlin  and  drooling  in  his  drunken  joy, 
chased  the  scantilly  attired  coryphees  hither 
and  yon. 

The  tipsy  period  had  passed,  all  were 
just  plain  drunk.  Then  a game  started 
where  the  loser  forfeited  some  portion  of 
their  wearing  apparel. 

“Looks  like  something  is  going  to  come 
off”  muttered  Bill,  glancing 
at  his  wrist  watch.  He  would 
have  to  hustle  to  get  the  story 
ready  for  the  morning  paper, 
however,  he  had  seen 
enough. 

He  had  a tale  that  would 
melt  the  type. 

Stanley  was  waiting  for 
him  in  the  office.  Bill  pro- 
ceeded to  give  him  a lucid  ac- 
count of  the  dinner  party. 

When  the  young  man  had 
finished,  Warrington,  Jr., 
wheeled  around,  thought  a 
minute  and  started  his  yarn 
with  a string  of  alliterations, 
that  would  have  brought  joy 
to  the  heart  of  a circus  press 
agent. 

As  he  paused  to  light  his 
pipe,  Bill  glanced  over  his 
shoulder  and  read  the  head- 
lines. 

“Where  will  you  have  the 
remains  sent?”  he  asked. 

Stanley  gave  a grunt, 
punched  viciously  at  the  ma- 
chine, gathering  speed  as  he 
swung  into  his  stride — and 
the  tale  was  in  the  telling. 

TH  E morning  paper 
flopped  on  the  door- 
steps of  its  subscribers  at  the 
usual  hour. 

Delia,  as  was  her  custom, 
swung  open  the  portals  of  the 
Walsh  mansion,  scooped  up 
the  rolled  paper  and  went  PhotobyMoss 
into  the  house. 


But  this  was  her  liege’s  wedding  day. 
That  worthy  gentleman  lay  at  the  moment 
buried  in  a mound  of  bed  clothes,  snoring 
like  a huge  sea  cow.  It  would  be  hours 
before  he  awakened.  There  would  be  no 
customary  reading  of  the  morning  paper 
at  the  breakfast  table.  A crumpled  news- 
paper at  such  a time  was  a drug  on  the 
market. 

It  flopped  into  the  waste  basket. 

At  the  usual  hour,  the  Stockton  butler 
stepped  out  to  the  terrace,  inhaled  a breath 
of  morning  air,  picked  up  the  morning 
paper  and  departed  into  the  house. 

But  this  was  Miss  Cynthia’s  wedding 
day.  Already,  the  house  was  astir;  and 
thus  it  was  that  the  paper  found  its  way 
to  the  hall  table,  an  unwanted  thing  of 
ugly  pot.  There  it  lay  throughout  the 
day,  unopened  and  unread. 

The  residents  of  Sterling  however,  were 
running  on  their  regular  schedule.  By 
nine  o’clock  the  story  was  being  mouthed 
as  a delicious  morsel  of  scandal,  for  Stan- 
ley had  painted  a picture  with  a carmine 
brush. 

Minerva  was  up  early.  Her  husband,  a 
humored  invalid  slept  late  to  conserve  his 
strength  for  the  ceremony.  Cynthia,  after 
a sleepless  night,  had  finally  succumbed  to 


Canyon  Palms 


the  blessings  of  a profound  slumber. 
Throughout  the  long  hours  the  terrors  of 
her  coming  marriage  to  Walsh  had  lashed 
her  brain  with  stinging  thoughts  of  re- 
bellion. 

In  the  grip  of  her  dreams,  she  had  seen 
herself  as  one  besieged.  On  one  side,  her 
mother,  garbed  as  a battle-crying  Brunne- 
hilde,  hurled  javelins  at  her,  anathema- 
tizing her  with  cries  of,  “Ungrateful 
child,” — “see  what  you  have  done,” — “look 
at  your  poor  father,” — “he  is  ruined,  and 
we  are  disgraced.” 

From  the  opposite  side,  Walsh,  in  his 
rage,  tore  big  chunks  out  of  the  Stockton 
factories  and  threw  them  at  her  in  fiendish 
glee. 

Turning  in  blind  fear  to  escape  her  tor- 
mentors, she  saw  her  father  confronting 
her  as  if  in  condemnation.  He  seemed  to 
falter  and  then  fall  lifeless  to  the  ground. 
She  wanted  to  go  to  him,  but  she  found 
herself  running — running  as  one  possessed 
in  the  other  direction.  The  road  lay  open 
before  her.  In  the  distance,  she  could 
see  the  gates  of  the  Ogre’s  castle  opening, 
as  if  to  offer  sanctuary.  She  stumbled  on, 
passed  through  the  gates,  heard  them  clang 
shut,  and  dropped  breathlessly  to  her  knees. 
The  young  Ogre  came  to  her,  lifted  her 
up  gently,  and  carried  )ier 
away. 

In  Stanley  Warrington’s 
arms,  she  had  fallen  asleep. 

“A  Welsh  rabbit  night- 
mare,” would  have  been  Bill 
Dobbin’s  comment. 

The  wedding  was  to  take 
place  at  eight  o’clock 
that  evening.  Any  girl  could 
be  married  in  a drawing  room 
at  four  in  the  afternoon,  but 
Minerva  was  forever  striving 
for  something  new. 

On  the  broad,  green  sward 
of  the  Stockton  estate,  an  al- 
tar banked  with  roses,  was  re- 
ceiving its  finishing  touches  by 
a florist  of  discernment.  A 
hundred  or  more  chairs  were 
being  unfolded  and  set  up. 
From  a hidden  group  of 
palms  and  shrubbery,  an  or- 
chestra would  thunder  out  the 
measured  tread  of  Mendel- 
sohn’s melody.  In  another 
bower,  a caterer  was  unpack- 
ing his  viands,  silverware  and 
dishes. 

Many  lanterns  of  variegat- 
ed hues  were  being  strung  to 
invisible  wires,  while  Min- 
erva, the  creator  and  builder 
of  this  fairyland,  scurried 
about,  giving  an  order  here, 
or  a suggestion  there. 

The  wedding  gown  in  all 
its  finery  lay  in  state  in  Cyn- 
thia’s boudoir.  A wardrobe 
trunk,  one  of  the  many  pres- 


32 

sent — with  a gold  plate  bearing  the  en- 
graved name  of  Mrs.  Addison  Walsh, 
awaited  its  assortment  of  finery  for  the 
honeymoon. 

In  the  office  of  the  Daily  Eagle,  Bill 
Dobbins  was  busily  engaged  in  cleaning  and 
oiling  an  old  horse  pistol. 

“What’s  the  big  idea?”  asked  his  father, 
as  he  peeled  oft  his  coat  for  the  day’s 
work. 

“Just  mobilizing.” 

“Who  for— Walsh?” 

“Yep.” 

“You’re  crazy.” 

“Sure,  crazy  like  a fox." 

“He  wouldn’t  dare  get  rough,”  said  Cal, 
snorting  out  his  work. 

“Nevertheless,”  observed  the  cautious 
one.  “When  he  reads  our  little  sketch, 
he’s  going  to  bounce  right  through  his  roof 
and  land  in  here.  He  may  come  empty- 
handed — and  he  may  not.” 

Cal  chuckled.  It  smacked  of  the  days 
when  men  went  gunning  for  the  editor. 

“By  the  way,”  inquired  Cal.  “Where 
is  ye  editor  of  ye  paper?” 

“Gone  dove  shooting.” 

“Think  he’s  afraid  to  show  up?” 

“Not  on  your  life,”  replied  Bill  loyally. 
“He  isn’t  afraid  of  anything — unless  it’s  a 
girl.” 

Cal  gazed  out  the  window  in  retrospec- 
tion. 

“The  mills  of  the  gods  grind  slowly, 
but  they  grind  exceeding  small,”  he 
mused. 

“Which  leads  us  to ?”  queried  Bill. 

“I  was  just  wondering  what  Cynthia 
will  do  when  she  reads  that,”  said  Cal,  tap- 
ping the  article  with  his  finger. 

The  younger  Dobbin  indulged  in  a grin 
of  satisfaction. 

“She’ll  just  naturally  pick  up  a monkey 
wrench,  and  throw  it  in  Addy’s  machin- 
ery.” 

“There’ll  be  the  devil  to  pay  if  she  does,” 
Cal  predicted.  “He’ll  just  teetotally  beg- 
gar them.” 

“Sure,”  acquiesced  his  worthy  son.  “But 
out  of  the  ruins,  Cynthia  will  rise — beauti- 
ful— and  resourceful.  Gosh,”  he  added, 
viewing  himself  in  a pocket  mirror.  “Being 
married  to  Cynthia  wouldn’t  be  hard  to 
take.” 

Cal  gazed  at  his  boy  with  paternal  pride. 
“Never  mind,  kid,”  he  said  in  a gentle 
tone.  “Some  day,  some  girl  is  going  to 
fall  hard  for  those  freckles  of  yours. 

“Yeah,”  admitted  Bill  doubtfully.  “The 
fall  will  be  hard — on  her.  Now — if  I only 
looked  like  good  old  Stan — Say!  “he  said, 
jumping  to  his  feet,  “That’s  how  it  ought 
to  be.  Wouldn’t  they  make  a pair  to 
draw  to?” 

“It  isn’t  in  the  cards,”  said  Cal  laconi- 
cally. 

“Ever  drink  deep  of  those  eyes  of  hers?” 
“No — and  neither  has  he.” 

“Well — maybe  he  hasn’t  drunk  deep — 
but  I’ll  bet  he’s  taken  a little  sip.”  With 


©irector 

that  bright  remark,  he  turned  to  the  clean- 
ing of  his  gun. 

IT  lacked  ten  minutes  of  eight.  In  just 
about  fifteen  minutes,  Cynthia  would 
be  Mrs.  Addison  Walsh.  That  accomp- 
lished— and  Minerva  secretly  admitted  it 
to  be  an  accomplishment— the  future  of 
the  Stocktons  would  be  firmly  planted  on 
a solid  foundation. 

The  guests  were  being  ushered  to  their 
seats.  The  orchestra  was  tuning  up,  while 
the  bridesmaids  chattered  and  preened 
themselves  in  the  library,  like  a bevy  of 
magpies. 

The  bridegroom  had  not  arrived  as  yet, 
but  that  perfumed  Lothario  was  already 
on  the  way.  Seated  in  his  closed  car,  he 
removed  his  silk  hat,  and  mopped  the  mois- 
ture from  his  brow  with  a handkerchief  as 
big  as  a lunch  cloth. 

Outwardly  he  appeared  to  be  calm,  but 
inwardly  he  was  literally  stewing.  Delia 
had  to  practically  blast  him  out  of  bed.  He 
had,  what  is  termed — a beautiful  hangover. 
But,  by  the  aid  of  a barber,  a cold  shower 
and  a good  jolt  of  whiskey,  topped  off  with 
a peppermint  lozenger  on  the  tongue,  he 
felt  able  to  go  through  with  it. 

Thoughts  of  the  beautiful  girl  who 
would  soon  be  nestling  in  his  arms,  buoyed 
him  up. 

It  was  his  crowning  hour — the  ultimate 
achievement  of  his  career.  “Cynthia — his 
priceless  princess  of  love — ” 

Walsh  was  plunging  joyously  into  a sea 
of  gush. 

Cal  and  Bill  had  waited  all  day  for  the 
explosion.  As  the  hour  of  the  wedding 
drew  near,  they  had  to  scurry  around  at 
the  last  minute  to  get  their  dress  suits  out 
of  camphor,  have  them  pressed  and  find 
suitable  linen. 

Standing  on  the  Stockton  lawn,  absorb- 
ing the  beauties  of  the  scene,  they  marveled. 
Not  a peep  out  of  Walsh,  nor  a protest 
from  Mrs.  Stockton.  Everything  was  pro- 
ceeding merrily,  despite  the  story  of  the 
bachelor  dinner. 

“Wonder  if  anybody  reads  our  paper,” 
muttered  Bill. 

“Looks  as  if  they  didn’t”  said  Cal. 
“What’s  got  into  everybody?”  asked 
Bill.  “Is  it  possible  the  king  can  do  no 
wrong  r 

Cal  had  no  answer  for  him. 

A town  car  glided  up  to  the  house.  The 
bridegroom  alighted  somewhat  gingerly,  it 
seemed  to  them.  Then  he  hurried  into  the 
house,  and  was  shown  immediately  into 
the  music  room.  He  came  in,  shut  and 
locked  the  door,  and  sank  into  a chair.  His 
best  man  turned  in  relief  from  his  nervous 
pacing  of  the  floor.  Addison  groaned  and 
held  his  head  in  his  hands.  The  friend, 
who  had  been  a guest  at  the  Poodle  Dog 
the  night  before,  had  come  prepared.  He 
quickly  produced  a silver  flask,  and  silently 
handed  it  to  the  stricken  man. 

He  drained  it  with  a series  of  guzzling 


November 

gulps,  like  a man  just  off  the  desert  would 
guzzle  water. 

“Thanks,  old  chap,”  he  murmured  faint- 
ly, as  he  leaned  his  head  on  the  back  of 
the  chair.  “It  was  some  party,  wasn’t  it?” 
The  flask-toter  granted  it  to  be  a record- 
breaker,  and  took  a swig  of  the  flask  to 
fortify  himself. 

Mrs.  Clotilde  Burlingame-Magoun  was 
one  of  the  guests  who  read  her  morn- 
ing paper  assiduously.  A charming  widow, 
grass  and  otherwise — was  Clotilde.  Pos- 
sessed of  a small  income,  that  made  it  an 
unpleasant  strain  to  live  up  to  her  apparent 
affluence ; stories  of  her  vast  estates  having 
been  judiciously  spread  throughout  the 
community,  she  was  usually  hard  pressed 
to  make  both  ends  meet. 

With  her  beautiful  eyes,  deep  wells  of 
onyx,  someone  had  called  them,  continu- 
ally scanning  the  matrimonial  horizon  for 
a man  whose  rating  in  Bradstreet’s  would 
relieve  the  situation,  she  had  set  her  cap 
for  Walsh  and  nearly  landed  him. 

But  that  was  a year  ago,  then  he  had 
slipped  away  from  her  and  turned  to  Cyn- 
thia Stockton. 

Disappointment  turned  to  rage,  and  rage 
to  a roaring  furnace  of  revenge.  She  stood 
in  the  Stockton  hallway,  gazing  wistfully 
at  the  door  of  the  music  room,  through 
which,  Walsh  had  passed  not  a moment 
before. 

For  a year  she  had  nursed  a forlorn  hope 
that  she  might  recapture  him,  but  now 
she  realized  that  all  was  over.  He  was 
lost  to  her  forever. 

With  a sigh,  relative  to  a groan,  she 
turned  to  go.  Glancing  down  at  the  table, 
the  crumpled  newspaper  caught  her  eve. 
H er  nimble  wits  instantly  apprised  her 
of  its  significace  there.  Could  it  really  be, 
that  no  one  in  the  household  had  read  the 
story?  If  that  were  true,  and  it  appeared 
to  be  so — then  she  could  understand  many 
things  that  had  puzzled  her.  She  knew 
Cynthia  well  enough  to  realize  the  effect 
such  a tale  would  have  on  her.  As  for 
herself,  she  was  willing  at  all  time  to  take 
Walsh — as  is. 

A clever  plan  inspired  her. 

Hastily  picking  up  the  newspaper,  she 
called  the  passing  butler,  who  hurried  over 
and  bowed  profoundly  before  this  ravish- 
ing guest. 

“Could  you  tell  me?”  she  inquired  in  a 
throaty  tone  of  voice,  “Whether  anyone 
here  has  seen  the  morning  paper?  I found 
it  here,  rolled  up — just  as  it  was  delivered 
this  morning,  I presume. 

The  heavy  Englishman  nodded  impres- 
sively. 

“I  think  not  ma’m,”  he  said,  radiating 
competance.  “I  placed  it  there  myself.  It 

has  been  such  a busy  day ” 

“I  quite  understand,”  said  Clotilde,  an- 
ticipating him.  “I  wonder  if  you  would 
do  me  a favor?  There’s  an  article  in  this 

(Continued  on  Page  58) 


192  5 


©irector 


33 


The  Playhouse  of  the  Stars 

THE  Screen  Club 

By  Harry  D.  IV its  on  Hit  Lake  Hrrowhead 


ON  a lofty  bluff  overlooking  in  one 
direction  Lake  Arrowhead  and  the 
forest  beyond  and  in  another  the 
little  Swiss  village  of  Arrowhead  nestling 
at  its  base,  awaiting  for  its  formal  opening 
but  the  first  fall  of  snow  in  this  mountain 
retreat  where  the  white  mantle  of  winter 
affords  pleasing  contrast  to  the  semi-tropi- 
cal climate  of  Southern  California’s  play- 
ground, stands  the  recently  completed 
Screen  Club,  the  first  exclusively  cinematic 
institution  of  its  kind. 

With  that  first  fall  of  snow  at  Arrow- 
head mighty  logs  will  sizzle  and  spark  and 
burn  in  the  giant  fire  place  of  the  trophy 
room  and  final  plans  for  the  formal  opening 
for  which  all  preliminary  preparations  have 
already  been  made,  will  be  whipped  into 
shape  and  this  new  mountain  home  for 
the  stars  and  executives  of  the  silent  drama 
colony  of  Hollywood  will  be  officially  and 
formally  dedicated. 


Linlike  many  openings  in  the  theatrical 
world,  last  minute  hustle  and  bustle  is  des- 
tined to  be  utterly  lacking,  for  the  Screen 
Club  stands  today  complete  in  every  detail, 
beautifully  and  attractively  furnished,  with 
landscaping  and  gardening  and  all  the  at- 
tendant decorative  details  fully  carried  out, 
— a treat  to  the  eye  and  something  that 
the  motion  picture  industry  may  well  be 
proud  to  claim  as  its  own. 

“There  is  nothing  like  it  anywhere 
whether  it  be  in  the  White  Mountains,  the 
Blue  Hills,  or  Switzerland,”  said  Norman 
Manning,  well-known  sportsman  and  in 
charge  of  the  activities  of  the  new  club. 
“It  has  been  created  for  the  screen  stars 
and  studio  executives  and  its  organization 
consists  of  some  of  the  finest  business  men 
in  the  film  colony. 

“The  club,”  continued  Manning,  “will 
be  available  all  the  year  ’round  and  during 
the  winter  months,  winter  sports  will  be 


the  interesting  appeal  while  in  the  summer, 
there  is  everything  on  hand  for  the  vacation 
hunter  and  for  that  ‘few  days  rest  from 
the  studio’  feeling. 

“The  club  is  probably  one  of  the  most 
picturesque  and  interesting  place  in  the 
land.  It  is  large  and  spacious,  contains 
some  sixty  guest  chambers,  a huge  living 
room,  the  wonderful  trophy  room,  and  in 
fact,  everything  that  a modern  up-to-the- 
minute  gentleman’s  lodge  should  boast.” 

That  the  film  colony  is  responding  to  the 
membership  invitation  is  evinced  in  those 
who  have  been  participating  in  the  activi- 
ties of  the  club  house  despite  the  fact  it  has 
not,  as  yet,  been  formally  opened. 

Stars  such  as  Lewis  Stone,  Anna  Q. 
Nilsson,  Dorothy  Mackaill,  Blanche  Sweet, 
Lew  Cody,  Henry  B.  Walthall,  Lloyd 
Hughes,  Bert  Lytell,  Claire  Windsor, 
Mary  Akin,  Dolores  del  Rio,  Ben  Lyon, 
Milton  Sills,  Alice  Joyce,  Agnes  Ayres, 


November 


34 

and  many  more  are  keenly  interested  in  the 
club  and  its  future.  Directors  of  the 
standing  of  Frank  Lloyd,  Edwin  Carewe, 
Alfred  E.  Green,  Curt  Rehfeld,  John 
Francis  Dillon,  Irving  Cummings,  and 
others  are  among  those  participating  in  the 
activities  of  the  club. 

“That  the  Screen  Club  will  be  a lasting 
home  for  the  film  folks — a retreat  high  up 
and  away  from  the  busy  whirl  of  the  studio 
life,  is  assured,”  continued  Manning. 
“From  every  quarter,  we  are  receiving  re- 
quests for  membership  and  questions  asked 
relative  to  the  procedure  for  joining.  It  is 
created  exclusively  for  the  Screen  people 
and  the  executives  of  the  picture  industry. 
It  will  be  one  of  the  show  place  of  South- 


Director 

ern  California  and  there  is  no  doubt  but 
that  it  will  be  doing  a capacity  business 
every  week  of  the  year.” 

‘“One  of  the  interesting  angles  about  the 
Arrowhead  Screen  Club,”  said  Lewis 
Stone,  one  of  the  most  enthusiastic  boost- 
ers of  the  institution  and  himself  a prop- 
erty owner  of  no  small  means  in  the  Lake 
Arrowhead  region,  “is  in  the  fact  it  is  so 
near  Hollywood.  The  average  driver  can 
make  it  on  a non-stop  basis  in  three  and 
a half  hours  and  not  be  afraid  of  traffic 
officers  on  the  highways.  The  approach  is 
ideal.  No  rough  roads  and  the  incline 
from  the  foot  of  the  hills  until  one  stops  his 
motor  at  the  main  gate  of  the  resort,  is  most 
easy  for  any  automobile  of  modern  type.” 


A gala  opening  is  being  planned.  At 
this  opening,  stars  and  directors  and  offi- 
cials of  filmdom  will  gather  and  pay  hom- 
age to  their  new  mountain  home.  This 
event  will  be  with  the  first  fall  of  snow 
and  plans  are  now  afoot  to  stage  a giant 
winter  carnival  in  connection  with  the 
opening. 

There  is  a toboggan  slide  of  a mile  in 
length,  facilities  for  ice  skating,  ski  sports, 
and  everything  that  an  Eastern  winter  re- 
sort can  offer.  The  opening  of  the  Screen 
Club  of  Lake  Arrowhead  promises  to  be 
one  of  the  events  of  the  winter  months — 
something  for  the  film  folk  to  look  for- 
ward to  with  no  mean  anticipation. 


Grown  - Ups  and  the 

Serial  Picture  Play 


An  Interview  with  William  Lord  Wright 

By  Walter  M.  Leslie 


WILLIAM  LORD  WRIGHT, 
head  of  Universal  serial  depart- 
ment, takes  exception  to  the  oft- 
heard  remark  that  the  serial  picture  play 
is  only  for  children  and  that  it  appeals  only 
to  children. 

“The  serial  picture,”  says  Wright,  “as 
regards  the  more  mature  movie  fans  is 
much  the  same  as  the  circus.  The  children 
are  only  a means  to  the  end.  Parents, 
uncles,  aunts  and  older  brothers  and  sisters 
use  the  children  as  an  excuse  to  go  to  the 
circus.  And  by  the  same  token,  they  use 
the  children  as  an  excuse  to  follow  the 
thrilling  episodes  of  a serial  picture.  They 
enjoy  it  but  won’t  admit  it!” 

“Many  of  the  big  feature  pictures  are 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  glorified  ser- 
ials,” continued  Wright,  “costing  more, 
but  with  no  greater  attention  paid  to  detail 
than  is  given  the  serial.  Serials  are  slowly 
but  steadily  gaining  in  public  favor.  There 
might  have  been  a slump  for  a time  but 
this  has  passed.  Universal’s  belief,  not 
only  in  the  growing  popularity  of  the  ser- 
ial picture,  but  also  in  its  educative  value, 
is  shown  by  the  program  it  has  mapped 
out.  We  will  make  six  serials  the  coming 
year  and  perhaps  eight. 

“More  money  is  now  being  spent  on 
serials  than  heretofore,  not  only  as  regards 
cost  of  production,  but  also  as  regards  price 
paid  for  stories  and  casts.  Historical  at- 
mosphere is  being  sought  for  more  and 
more,  and  some  of  the  best  writers  of  the 


country  have  contributed  their  efforts  to 
Universal’s  coming  program.  Another 
thing,  serials  are  being  given  more  comedy 
relief,  which  appeals  not  only  to  the  chil- 
dren but  also  to  the  grown-ups.  The  suc- 
cessful serial  must  be  clean  above  every- 
thing else.  In  considering  stories,  that  is 
Universal’s  first  thought.  Then  it  must 
have  novelty  and  enough  of  a plot  to  make 
it  interest  sustaining  for  10  weeks,  and 
that  is  what  we  are  getting  now. 

“The  serial  is,  I think,  the  most  diffi- 
cult feature  of  motion  picture  work.  Where 
it  treats  of  historical  matters,  it  must  fol- 
low history  closely.  Writers  of  serials 
must  know  their  technique,  and  directors 
must  display  more  resourcefulness  than  in 
any  other  brand  of  pictures.  Getting  back 
to  the  serial  and  grown-ups,  the  serial  is 
reaching  out  and  replacing  the  hold  that 
juvenile  literature  once  had  on  the  chil- 
dren’s elders.  Many  a tired  business  and 
professional  man  has  been  known  to  seek 
relief  from  his  worries  through  the  medium 
of  books  that  he  once  read  as  a child.  Now 
he  is  seeking  that  same  relief  from  the 
serial  pictures. 

“Take  Perils  of  the  Wild,  one  of  Uni- 
versal’s recent  releases.  It  is  a screen  adap- 
tation of  the  famous  Swiss  Family  Robin- 
son. It  is  reported  as  drawing  as  many 
older  persons  as  it  does  children.  This,  I 
think,  is  the  first  serial  showing  boys  work- 
ing in  adventure.  Four  youngsters  have 
prominent  parts  in  it.  Children  like  to 


see  those  of  their  own  age  going  through 
adventures  on  the  screen,  and  the  grown- 
ups get  much  the  same  feeling  out  of  it, 
for  it  takes  them  back  to  the  days  when 
they  had  visualized  themselves  in  these  very 
roles. 

“The  present  day  serial  can  be  made  of 
wonderful  educational  value  and  that  is 
what  Universal  is  striving  for.  We  are 
now  finishing  two  such  pictures.  One  is 
Strings  of  Steel,  and  the  other  The  Radio 
Detective.  The  former  is  a thrilling  and 
romantic  story  of  the  invention  and  devel- 
opment of  the  telephone.  Before  we  began 
to  make  that  picture,  we  secured  the  co- 
operation of  the  Bell  system.  We  were 
given  access  to  their  museum  in  New  York 
City  and  from  the  data  secured  there  and 
from  veterans  still  in  the  service,  we  have 
produced  an  historical  picture  that  will  be 
instructive  and  interesting  to  all  ages. 

The  Radio  Detective  is  based  on  Arthur 
B.  Reeve’s  story  of  the  same  name.  Every- 
thing touching  on  the  radio  that  appears 
in  this  picture  was  first  passed  on  by  radio 
authorities.  Boy  Scouts  play  an  important 
part  in  it  and  here,  as  well  as  through  the 
radio  feature,  is  something  that  certainly 
appeals  to  others  than  children.  While  the 
serial  has  been  described  as  a ‘children’s 
picture,’  it  is  a safe  bet  that  father  and 
mother,  uncle  and  aunt,  and  elder  brother 
and  sister  are  glad  to  be  able  to  see  one 
even  though  they  do  hide  behind  the  ex- 
cuse, ‘the  children  like  it.’  ” 


19  2 5 


director 


35 


IV bat 

Bill 

Hart 

Stands  for 


Bill  Hart  among  the  tumbleweeds 


By  Adam  Hull  Shirk 

WILLIAM  S.  (Bill)  HART  has 
always  stood  pre-eminently  in  mo- 
tion pictures,  for  clean,  wholesome, 
western  drama.  The  few  other  types  of 
films  in  which  he  has  starred  were  so  to 
speak  incidental  to  his  metier — i.e. — the 
portrayal  of  western  types  in  pictures  which 
deal  with  either  historical  or  purely  imagi- 
native incidents  in  the  developments  of  the 
frontiers  of  our  country. 

The  fact  that  millions  of  boys  love 
Bill  Hart  and  adore  his  pictures  is  ade- 
quate proof,  if  there  were  none  other,  of 
the  clean  character  of  his  photodramas. 
The  evil  in  men  has  not  been  held  up  for 
aggrandizement,  and  always  the  villain  has 
received  his  just  punishment.  Bill  Hart 
has  always  stood,  as  he  does  today,  for  fine- 
ness of  character,  for  bravery,  honesty,  dig- 
nity and  clean-cut  manhood.  No  milk  and 
water  heroes,  his — but  red  blooded  men 
who  fought  against  obstacles,  and  won  by 
sheer  pluck  and  sturdiness  of  character  and 
an  infallible  belief  in  justice. 

His  present  vehicle,  soon  to  be  released 
by  United  Artists  is  “Tumbleweeds”  adap- 
ted by  C.  Gardner  Sullivan  from  Hal.  G. 
Evarts  novel,  and  directed  by  King  Baggot. 
It  is  an  epic  of  the  west,  with  the  central 
element  of  the  great  land  rush  in  ’89  for 
the  Cherokee  Strip,  when  it  was  opened 
to  homesteaders.  This  was  in  Kansas  and 
Oklahoma  and  the  scenes  and  incidents  of 
the  period  are  ablv  depicted.  Barbara  Bed- 
ford is  his  leading  woman  and  there  is  an 
excellent  cast. 

This  picture  cost  $300,000.  That  is  a 
good  deal  for  a western  picture  some  may 
say,  but  this  is  no  common  western ; it  is 
an  epic  drama  with  power  and  strength 
and  romance  as  well  as  a great  historical 
background.  The  land  rush  alone  re- 
quired the  services  of  thousands  of  horses 
and  wagons,  hundred  of  people  and  nine- 
teen cameras  to  get  the  shots. 


Bill  Hart  makes  history  as  he  goes  along; 
rather,  he  perpetuates  in  celluloid  the  his- 
tory of  the  great  west.  As  few  other 
men  do,  he  knows  his  west.  He  has  stu- 
died it,  knows  many  men  whose  names  are 
part  and  parcel  of  its  development.  He 
loves  it  and  he  makes  his  pictures  labors 
of  love.  Yet  he  is  keen  enough  in  his 
business  judgment  to  know  the  require- 
ments of  the  box  office  and  as  a result  his 
films  have  always  been  successful.  The 
first  one  he  ever  made,  and  every  one  made 
since,  is  still  being  shown  and  in  demand. 
This  is  a record  few  stars  can  point  to. 

Withal,  Bill  Hart,  with  his  love  of  ani- 
mals and  his  great  interest  in  the  boys  of 
the  nation ; his  studious  habits  and  his  quiet, 


methodical  manner,  is  one  of  the  most 
modest  and  considerate  of  men.  His  asso- 
ciates swear  by  him.  He  is  eminently  just 
and  fair. 

Few  men  are  more  often  referred  to  in 
the  writings  of  famous  authors — such  as 
Sherwood  Anderson,  James  Montgomery 
Flagg,  Katherine  Fullerton  Gerould — all 
of  whom  have  referred  to  him  in  glowing 
terms,  as  the  true  western  exponent  of 
drama  for  the  screen,  and,  moreover,  as  a 
man  who  in  real  life  is  all  that  his  screen 
characterizations  imply — a man  who  is  im- 
bued with  the  spirit  of  honesty,  justice  and 
fairness,  big  of  soul  and  heart,  a man  who 
stands  pre-eminently  as  one  of  the  great 
bulwarks  of  the  film  industry. 


N ovember 


©irector 


Motives  and  Motifs 


WHEN  I was  a schoolboy  in  San 
Francisco,  our  teacher  constantly  re- 
iterated a copy  book  efficiency 
maxim  which,  if  I remember  correctly,  was 
as  follows: 

“One  safe,  sure  and  attainable  quality 
is  that  of  attention.  It  will  grow  in  the 
poorest  of  soil  and  in  its  own  due  time 
bring  forth  flowers  and  fruit.” 

It  made  a tremendous  impression  on  me 
at  the  time  as  an  efficiency  maxim  to  pro- 
mote concentration  in  studies,  but  it  was 
not  until  years  later  that  I recognized  its 
application  to  other  things. 

To  my  mind  it  is  the  very  foundation 
of  the  science  of  the  theatrical  business  as 
we  know  it  today,  whether  it  be  grand 
opera,  drama,  vaudeville,  the  staging  of 
great  film  productions,  or  the  neighbor- 
hood motion  picture  show. 

The  producer  or  exhibitor  is  in  the  posi- 
tion of  the  school  teacher  seeking  to  gain 
and  hold  the  attention  of  his  audience,  the 
general  public.  He  must  first  of  all  draw 
the  interest  of  the  great  crowd  seeking  di- 
version or  education,  as  the  case  may  be. 

Experience  has  shown  that  the  most  suc- 
cessful productions  are  those  which  attract 
the  attention  of  all  sorts  of  people,  young 
and  old,  ingenuous  and  sophisticated.  Plays 
that  are  designed  for  a class,  or  which  harp 
too  much  on  one  chord,  or  which  are  un- 
derstandable only  to  a small  part  of  the 


Grauman 


population,  usually  are  short  lived.  The 
plays  that  endure  are  these  for  the  masses. 

The  playhouses  that  most  frequently  dis- 
play the  ‘S.R.O.’  sign,  you  will  find  are 
comfortable,  conveniently  arranged  for  the 
public,  and  courteously  conducted.  You 
cannot  hold  the  attention  of  the  audience 
if  the  patrons  are  cold,  cramped  or  crowd- 
ed, and  slights  or  discourtesies  from  the 
house  personnel  will  establish  a disagree- 
able feeling  that  will  distract  attention  dur- 
ing the  whole  performance. 

Productions  that  hold  the  attention  of 
the  masses  appeal  to  all  the  senses.  The 
introductory  music  by  its  auditory  appeal 


gets  the  audience  into  a receptive  mood, 
and  the  experienced  exhibitor  avoids  per- 
mitting it  to  be  too  insistent  in  volume.  I 
have  seen  stage  performances  terribly  handi- 
capped by  an  overzealous  orchestra  con- 
ductor. 

The  motion  picture  alone,  which  reaches 
the  sensibilities  of  the  audience  solely 
through  the  eyes,  will  not  suffice  as  com- 
plete entertainment.  The  prologue  gives 
the  opportunity  to  vary  the  sensory  appeal 
and  prepare  the  audience  for  the  picture 
production.  It  should  be  artistic,  to  ap- 
peal to  the  sense  of  refinement.  With  the 
stage  spectacle  you  may  reach  the  sense  of 
rhythm  through  the  dance,  beauty,  grace 
and  poise  through  the  tableaux,  and  un- 
limited opportunity  is  given  to  appeal  to 
the  humorous  and  dramatic  senses  of  the 
audience.  There  are  no  limitations  to  the 
effects  that  can  be  achieved  by  scenic  art 
and  costuming. 


192  5 


©irector 


37 


Sid  Grauman’s  success  in  making  The  Egyptian  more  than  just  a theatre  but  a national  insti- 
tution HAS  ENCOURAGED  HIM  IN  CARRYING  OUT  HIS  PLANS  FOR  THE  ERECTION  OF  A COLORFUL  ORIENTAL 
PLAYHOUSE  WITH  A DISTINCTIVELY  CHINESE  MOTIF.  The  FORECOURT,  ENTRANCE  TO  WHICH  IS  SHOWN 
ABOVE,  WILL  CONSTITUTE  A LAVISHLY  LAID  OUT  CHINESE  GARDEN  SURROUNDED  BY  FORTY-FOOT  WALLS. 

Ground  for  the  new  theatre  will  be  broken  early  in  November. 


The  picture  play  prologue  that  holds  the 
attention  of  the  audience  is  an  introductory 
entity  in  itself.  Simple  vaudeville  acts,  no 
matter  how  striking  or  novel,  unrelated  one 
to  the  other  or  to  the  picture  production, 
distract  the  attention,  and  destroy  the  ele- 


ment of  suspense  for  what  is  to  follow, 
which  is  the  very  object  of  the  prologue. 

IN  staging  the  prologue  for  Charlie 
Chaplin’s  “The  Gold  Rush’’  at  the 
Egyptian  theater,  a problem  was  presented 
which  illustrates  this  point.  The  setting 


for  the  entire  prologue  was  a panoramic 
spectacle  of  Chilkoot  Pass  in  the  Klondike. 
1 did  not  want  to  lower  the  curtain  during 
the  entire  prologue  to  risk  diverting  the 
attention  of  the  spectators,  if  it  possibly 
could  be  avoided.  And  yet  I had  planned 


38 


November 


director 


to  present  a Monte  Carlo  dancehall  scene 
in  the  spectacle.  In  studying  the  problem 
from  all  angles,  I was  struck  with  the  idea 
of  the  manner  in  which  such  an  effect  is 
usually  accomplished  in  motion  pictures,  in 
presenting  dream  illusions  on  the  screen, 
‘the  lap-dissolve’. 

The  mechanics  presented  some  difficul- 
ties, but  the  problem  was  finally  solved  by 
cutting  the  set  in  two  and  introducing  the 
halves  simultaneously  from  both  sides  of 
the  stage,  with  the  players  in  position  on 
the  ground  floor  and  the  balcony  of  the 
dancehall  ready  for  the  play  the  instant  the 
illusion  was  complete. 

The  set  was  removed  the  same  way  it 
was  introduced,  with  only  a slight  dimming 
of  the  lights,  for  the  final  scene  of  ‘Charlie 
Chaplin’s  Dream’,  the  panorama  of  the 
pass. 

The  effect  accomplished  more  than  re- 
paid for  the  effort,  for  it  permitted  the 
staging  of  the  prologue  spectacle  without  a 
curtain  or  any  interruption.  A continuous 
snowstorm  throughout  the  prologue  was 
visible  to  the  audience  through  the  dance- 
hall windows. 

WHEN  the  Egyptian  theater  was  pro- 
jected for  Hollywood,  I was  warned 
by  theatrical  men  in  whose  judgment  I 
had  the  greatest  confidence  that  I was  mak- 
ing a mistake  in  choosing  a location.  It 


was  too  far  from  the  center  of  population, 
they  said,  and  the  public  would  not  go  to 
Hollywood  to  see  a picture  show,  no  mat- 
ter how  elaborately  it  was  staged.  If  an 
ordinary  theater  had  been  contemplated, 
their  advice  would  have  been  heeded. 

But  my  plans  called  for  a playhouse  of 
a different  character  from  the  ordinary 
conception  of  a theater.  I desired  to  erect 
a structure  that  would  command  the  atten- 
tion not  only  of  the  residents,  but  of  the 
winter  tourists.  I had  in  mind  an  institu- 
tion unique  not  only  in  architectural  de- 
sign, but  from  the  standpoint  of  the  char- 
acter of  the  productions  to  be  offered. 

The  Egyptian  was  designed  with  a fore- 
court as  a means  of  holding  the  attention 
of  the  public  all  day  long  where  exhibits  of 
an  interesting  or  educational  nature  rela- 
tive to  the  production  could  be  displayed. 
It  also  offers  a commodious  and  conven- 
ient park  for  the  audience,  both  men  and 
women,  to  use  as  a promenade  during  in- 
termission. 

The  favor  the  Egyptian  has  enjoyed 
from  the  public  in  the  last  three  years  has 
given  me  the  courage  to  go  ahead  with 
plans  for  the  new  Chinese  theater  to  be 
located  on  Hollywood  boulevard,  near  Or- 
chid avenue,  a project  I have  had  in  mind 
for  years  for  a playhouse  for  the  produc- 
tion not  only  of  picture  plays,  but  of  grand 
opera  and  drama  as  well. 


Faith  in  the  future  of  Hollywood  and 
Los  Angeles  convinces  me  that  the  time 
has  arrived  when  the  best  of  facilities  for 
production  of  plays  and  pictures  are  none 
too  good. 

The  plans  call  for  a great  oriental  garden 
within  40  foot  walls  as  a forecourt  in  which 
I hope  to  be  able  to  incorporate  such  sur- 
roundings as  to  give  the  impression  that 
the  visitor  is  in  truth  entering  another 
world. 

While  it  will  not  be  the  largest  theater 
of  its  kind,  I have  planned  an  institution 
which  incorporates  my  best  efforts  to  pro- 
vide a setting  unique  and  splendid  enough 
to  be  worthy  of  the  surpassing  class  of  pro- 
ductions I am  confident  are  to  be  produced 
here. 

To  perpetuate  for  posterity  the  memory 
of  the  artists  of  the  screen  who  have  done 
so  much  for  the  Southland,  a hall  of  fame 
will  be  included  in  which  will  be  hung 
paintings  and  sculpture  by  artists  of  inter- 
national reputation  presenting  the  stars  of 
today  and  tomorrow. 

Hollywood  already  commands  the  at- 
tention of  the  world  as  its  cinema  capital. 
With  the  world  renowned  figures  of  the 
stage  and  the  screen,  music  and  other  arts 
resident  here,  why  cannot  Hollywood  at- 
tract the  attention  of  the  universe  as  an 
artistic  center  and  realize  the  fruits  and 
flowers  promised  by  the  copy  book? 


The 

Barnstormer 


OUR  week  in  San  Diego  ran  around 
fourteen  hundred  dollars,  but  as 
were  on  a fifty-fifty  percentage  we 
did  not  clear  as  much  as  we  did  in  San 
Bernardino. 

Our  next  stop  was  Bakersfield,  where 
we  were  booked  for  a three  night  stand. 
I had  located  a new  edition  of  fine  four- 
colored  litho  work  for  Ten  Nights  in  a 
Barroom,  so  had  our  advance  man  adver- 
tise this  for  the  last  night.  Mr.  Scribner, 
the  manager,  pleaded  with  me  to  substitute 
something  else,  saying,  “No  one  will  come 
to  see  that  old  nightmare”.  The  customers 
didn’t  show  up  in  overwhelming  numbers 
the  first  two  nights,  but  for  Wednesday, 
our  last  night,  the  reserved  seats  were  sold 
out  early  in  the  afternoon.  We  actually 
turned  people  away.  The  receipts  on  old 
Ten  Nights  were  $285,  but  I don’t  think 
the  show  was  lucky — a blacksmith  after 
witnessing  the  performance  went  home  and 
blew  his  brains  out. 

We  hit  Selma  next.  Here  the  house 


PART  III 

By  Frank  Cooley 

lights  and  stage  lights  were  lamps.  The 
manager  had  worked  out  a dimming  sys- 
tem with  strings,  but  it  didn’t  work  very 
well,  the  wicks  burning  to  different  lengths. 
Then  when  the  string  was  pulled  some 
would  go  out  entirely,  and  when  the  string 
was  pulled  the  other  way,  some  would  go 
up  too  high  and  smoke,  then  someone  in 
the  audience  would  run  up  and  blow  the 
offender  out. 

We  had  a new  actor,  Joe  Rhodes,  whom 
I had  picked  up  in  Redlands.  He  said  he 
hadn’t  had  much  experience  but  “was  as 
limber  as  a string”.  He  was  playing  Wil- 
lie Green  in  Ten  Nights.  Willie  gets 
shot  at  the  end  of  the  first  act,  I think. 
We  opened  in  Ten  Nights  so  I could  use 
my  advance  man  as  an  actor  and  still  be 
able  to  get  him  off  in  time  to  bill  the  next 
town.  When  Joe  was  shot  he  did  a very 
dramatic  and  elaborate  fall,  but  there  was 


quite  a bit  of  stage  below  the  curtain  and 
when  Joe  finally  came  to  rest,  he  was  in 
front  of  the  curtain  line.  I whispered 
loudly  to  him  from  R.  1st,  where  I stood 
ready  to  ring  down,  “Joe,  get  back!  You’re 
in  front  of  the  curtain.”  Joe  opened  an 
eye,  saw  the  curtain,  which  was  on  a big 
roll,  trembling,  ready  to  descend.  He 
arose,  moved  upstage,  and  died  all  over 
again.  The  curtain  came  down  with  au- 
dience and  actors  enjoying  a hearty  laugh. 
The  show  again  was  unlucky.  W e played 
to  a good  house,  but  during  the  second  act 
a boy  ran  in  crying,  “Mr.  Thompson,  your 
house  is  on  fire!”  Mr.  Thompson  and 
family  hurried  out,  but  their  house  burned 
to  the  ground  and  they  had  to  get  rooms 
at  the  hotel  for  the  night. 

We  were  now  playing  Under  Two  Flags 
for  our  second  night.  The  janitor,  who 
also  ran  the  curtain,  brought  his  little 
brother  to  see  the  show  from  the  wings. 
He  had  him  stationed  in  the  first  entrance. 
The  sword  fight  between  Black  Hawk  and 


1925 


39 


©irector 


morning  paper  came  in,  spoke  to  me  and 
started  a conversation,  hut  I was  an  indif- 
ferent listener  as  I was  wondering  where  I 
had  seen  the  man  before,  who  was  at  the 
moment  entering  his  name  on  the  register. 
He  had  the  politician’s  smile,  and  was 
rather  good  looking,  his  dark  hair  streaked 
with  gray  reaching  almost  to  his  shoulders. 
As  soon  as  he  left  the  register  I sauntered 
over  to  the  desk.  You  can  imagine  my 
surprise  when  I learned  it  was  Dr.  Booth? 


IN  a few  weeks  we 
hit  San  Jose.  All 
went  well  till  Sunday 
morning.  I was 
dressed  in  my  best 
clothes  and  moving 
along  Santa  Clara 
Avenue  with  a roll  of 
music  under  my  arm, 
on  my  rvay  to  try  out 
some  songs  with  the 
first  soprano  of  the  big 
Catholic  church.  As  I 
was  passing  a saloon,  a 
young  man  in  a bicycle 
suit  was  backing  hur- 
riedly out,  followed  by 
two  hard  looking  cus- 
tomers who  were  hit- 
ting him  with  all  their 
artillery.  As  he  neared  me  he  was  knocked 
down  and  one  man  started  to  kick  him. 
I held  the  larger  man  away,  saying,  “Your 
partner  can  lick  him  without  you.”  My 
back  was  turned  to  the  man  on  the  ground 
and  his  opponent. 

Suddenly  I received  an  ungodly  swing 
on  the  right  ear.  I turned  to  face  my 
enemy  and  as  I did  so,  the  big  fellow  that 
I had  held  off  swung  one  from  the  hip 
and  caught  me  on  side  of  the  nose.  If  it 


Jim  Corbett  loses  a bet  to  Frank  Cooley  and  pays  it  many  years 
later — Jim  Corbett  at  left,  Frank  Cooley  at  right. 


Bertie  Cecil  so  excited  the  lad  that  by  the 
time  the  curtain  was  coming  down  he  was 
under  it.  The  big  heavy  roll  caught  him 
and  was  bearing  him  to  the  floor — I yelled 
to  his  brother,  the  janitor,  and  he  stopped 
the  windlass  just  in  time.  The  boy  was 
quickly  pulled  from  under  and  the  curtain 
allowed  to  descend.  I was  so  mad  that  I 
made  for  the  janitor  at  once  and  demanded 
that  the  boy  leave  the 
stage  at  once.  He  re- 
plied: “He’s  my  broth- 
er and  he  stays  right 
here.”  I took  a punch 
at  him — he  looked  at 
me  in  a daze,  turned 
to  his  brother,  saying, 

“Johnny,  get  the  hell 
out  of  here!”  Johnny 
went  out  in  front  and 
the  show  proceeded. 

The  next  morning  I 
went  over  to  the  the- 
atre to  get  something 
out  of  my  dressing 
room.  The  janitor  was 
sweeping  the  stage  and 
upon  seeing  me,  he 
dropped  his  broom  and 
quickly  preceded  me  to 
the  dressing  room, 
opened  the  door  and 
ushered  me  in  saving, 

“Look,  I’ve  cleaned 
her  out  good  for  you, 

Frank.”  There  was 
fresh  paper  on  the 
shelf,  clean  water  in  a 
pitcher,  and  quite  the 
neatest  dressing  room 
one  had  a right  to  ex- 
pect in  a small  town. 

I played  Selma  every 
season  after  that  for 
seven  or  eight  years 
and  never  had  the  least 
trouble  with  anyone. 

I was  generally  called 
“Frank”  by  all  and 
made  some  wonderful 
friends. 


The  janitor,  who 
also  ran  a d raying  busi- 
ness, was  a young  man 
and  the  manager’s 
brother.  He  was  a 
husky  young  fellow, 
yet  he  was  taken  ill 
and  died  a few  years 
after  our  first  visit  and 
1 have  always  deeply  regretted  hitting  him. 


ANOTHER  recruit  joined  us — Mac- 
Donald— I don’t  remember  his  first 
name.  I think  he  runs  a drug  store  in 
San  Bernardino  now.  He  sang  between 
acts,  but  in  Tulare  the  piano  player  and 
he  couldn’t  mate  up  and  he  got  the  “Bird”. 
I was  wild  and  intended  to  fire  him,  but  he 
anticipated  me  by  getting  out  over  the  back 
fence  and  I didn’t  see  him  again  for  years. 


Before  I get  too  far  away  I want  to 
mention  regarding  my  trouble  with  Dr. 
Booth  at  the  Needles — that  several  years 
after  the  occurence  we  were  playing  a week 
in  Pomona. 

One  night  after  dinner  I was  sitting  in 
the  hotel  office,  when  the  bus  arrived  from 
the  station  with  quite  a number  of  guests. 
As  they  were  registering,  a waiter  on  the 


I joined  my  newspaper  friend  and  asked  if 
he  knew  who  the  man  with  the  long  hair 
was.  “Sure,”  he  said,  “that’s  Dr.  Booth. 
He’s  running  for  coroner  of  the  county  on 
the  Democratic  ticket.” 

I recalled  to  his  mind  the  trouble  I had 
had  with  the  doctor  at  the  “Needles”.  My 
friend  had  written  a two  column  article 
about  it  at  the  time.  He  was  immediately 
interested  and  had  me 
review  the  occurrence 
for  him.  His  was  a 
Republican  paper  and 
next  morning’s  issue 
contained  rather  a sour 
account  of  the  Demo- 
cratic meeting  and  at 
the  bottom  stated, 
“Quite  a coincidence — 
last  night  Dr.  Booth 
and  Frank  Cooley 
were  guests  of  the 
same  hotel.  This 
brings  to  our  mind 
Frank’s  first  visit  to 
the  Needles”  — then 
followed  the  story  of 
Booth,  the  mob  and 
the  jail,  ending  with 
“ — and  this  man  now 
asks  the  voters  of  Los 
Angeles  county  to  elect 
him  to  the  important 
office  of  Corner.”  An- 
other coincidence, 
Booth  ran  ahead  of  his 
ticket  in  Los  Angeles, 
but  behind  in  the  coun- 
ty. He  was  not  elected. 


40 


had  landed  on  top  my  nose  would  have  been 
broken  beyond  repair.  1 succeeded  in  get- 
ting them  both  in  front  of  me  and  was  do- 
ing quite  well,  when  the  larger  fellow  said, 
“Look  out,  fellows,  here  comes  the  bull !” 
1 never  saw  this  fellow  again.  I kept  on 
with  the  other  one,  however,  trying  hard 
to  catch  him  on  the  chin,  but  he  was  com- 
ing so  fast  that  I kept  hitting  him  too  high. 
I opened  a long  cut  on  his  left  cheek  and 
closed  his  left  eye.  The  policeman — Mr. 
Pickering  was  his  name — arrived  and 
placed  White  and  myself  under  arrest.  I 
learned  later  that  White  was  his  name  and 
he  had  quite  a local  reputation  as  a box 
fighter.  The  fellow  I had  protected 
mounted  his  wheel  and  rode  off  as  soon  as 
he  got  to  his  feet,  never  offering  to  help 
me  in  the  least.  I was  diplomatic  and  the 
officer  did  not  as  much  as  put  his  hand  on 
my  shoulder. 

He  escorted  us  to  jail,  one  on  each  side. 
We  were  both  bleeding  freely  and  there 
was  a large  crowd  following.  The  desk 
sergeant  said,  “Your  bail  will  be  $15  each.” 
I pleaded  that  I had  to  leave  town  early  in 
the  morning  and  wouldn’t  he  please  reduce 
it  to  ten.  He  looked  at  me  rather  queerly, 
but  agreed.  We  were  put  in  the  cage  to- 
gether with  a warning  that  if  we  got  to 
fighting  in  there,  things  would  go  hard 
for  us. 

Within  an  hour  the  darndest  bunch  of 
Mafia  looking  gents  I ever  saw,  bailed  my 
opponent  out,  but  I remained  in  jail  for 
over  three  hours  before  one  of  my  company 
arrived  with  the  necessary  ten — and  the 
iron  doors  opend  for  me. 

I learned  later  that  White — my  enemy 
— stood  trial  and  was  only  fined  eight 
dollars.  On  a later  visit  I called  on  Jus- 
tice Glass  and  tried  to  get  my  ten  back, 
but  he  laughed  and  said,  “That  ten  has 
gone  towards  paying  the  policeman’s  sal- 
ary and  you  are  lucky  we  don’t  arrest  you 
for  jumping  your  bail.”  I thanked  him 
for  his  leniency  and  got  away  from  there. 

Evenr  time  I have  played  San  Jose  since, 
White  has  occupied  seats  in  the  second  row 
— first  alone;  then  with  his  wife;  and 
finally  with  three  children. 

On  a visit  just  a few  years  ago,  I hap- 
pened to  be  in  the  box  office,  when  a very 
stout  man  asked  for  six  seats  in  the  sec- 
ond row.  As  he  received  them  he  said, 
“Frank  Cooley  sure,  ain’t  it?”  The  box 
office  man  answered,  “Yes.”  “That’s 
him,”  said  White;  “he’s  a damn  good  ac- 
tor.” As  he  stepped  away  from  the  win- 
dow the  cashier  whispered,  “Frank,  that’s 
White,  the  fellow  you  had  the  fight  with 
years  ago.”  I ran  out  of  the  office  and 
called,  “Oh,  Mr.  White.”  He  turned, 
looked  a moment,  recognized  me,  and  ex- 
claimed, “Oh,  Mr.  Cooley,  you  was  dead 
wrong  dat  time.  If  you  knew  what  dat 

did  to  me,  by  God,  you  hit  him, 

too.”  We  shook  hands  and  he  said,  “Dat’s 
fine.” 


TpV  nptws  miiu 

©irector 

WE  reached  San  Francisco  at  last  and 
“laid  off”  a week,  as  the  leading 
lady  received  another  offer  and  quit.  I 
put  Mrs.  Cooley  in  the  leads  and  engaged 
Harry  Pollard,  now  a great  director,  as 
second  man. 

We  opened  in  Redwood  City  to  $33. 
It  was  winter  then,  and  as  the  theatre 
boasted  no  stove,  the  audience  nearly  froze. 
I invited  them  to  sit  down  in  front  and 
they  filled  about  three  rows.  I announced 
a stove  for  the  next  night,  but  evidently 
I was  not  believed  as  the  receipts  for  the 
second  night  only  reached  $10.  We  made 
good  nevertheless,  and  by  Saturday  we 
were  doing  over  the  century.  We  used 
T om  Sawyer  for  matinees  and  always  had 
a full  house  of  children  and  mothers.  I 
gave  a china  plate  with  every  25-cent  ticket 
and  a box  of  candy  with  every  15-cent 
ticket. 

We  succeeded  in  keeping  out  of  trouble 
till  we  reached  Sebastopole.  Here  the 
morning  we  were  leaving — I think  it  was 
about  six-thirty  and  very  cold— I jammed 
with  the  drayman.  Our  contract  obligated 
me  to  pay  four  dollars  for  the  hauling  of 
trunks  and  scenery,  round  trip,  but  we 
had  borrowed  a little  organ  to  use  in  The 
Daughter  of  Dixie — a play  that  Frank 
Bacon  and  I wrote.  The  drayman  charged 
me  a dollar  and  a half  for  taking  this  to 
and  from  the  theatre.  Anyone  could  have 
carried  it,  as  I don’t  suppose  it  weighed 
over  sixty  pounds.  I grumbled  while  count- 
ing out  the  five  dollars  and  fifty  cents,  and 
to  be  as  mean  as  I could,  picked  it  out  of 
the  bag  in  quarters,  nickels  and  dimes,  and 
piled  it  on  a Wells  Fargo  wagon.  The 
drayman  suddenly  pushed  the  pile  over, 
saying,  “Don’t  pay  a cent  if  you  are  as 
cheap  as  that.”  I hit  him  and  a darb  of  a 
fight  was  on.  He  weighed  about  a hundred 
and  eighty.  I had  the  best  of  it  but  he 
cut  me  every  time  he  landed ; took  the 
skin  off  the  top  of  my  big  nose,  cut  my 
cheek,  and  gashed  my  mouth.  But  I had 
him  bleeding  plenty — all  over  his  clothes, 
and  the  sight  of  blood  scared  him  so  that 
he  dropped  his  hands  and  ran  around  the 
station,  with  me  after  him.  His  brother 
stopped  me,  saying,  “Don’t  fight  any 
more,  Frank,  he’s  got  enough.”  I replied, 
“He  isn’t  licked;  he  has  plenty  of  fight  in 
him  yet.”  But  the  big  fellow  popped  his 
head  around  the  corner  of  the  station  and 
said,  “Never  mind,  I’m  no  professional 
fighter — I know  when  I’ve  had  enough.” 

They  could  have  double-banked  me  and 
beat  me  to  death,  but  they  were  good  fel- 
lows and  sports.  The  next  time  I played 
the  town,  they  hauled  my  baggage  again 
and  never  even  asked  for  their  money.  1 
sent  the  four  dollars  to  the  Hopli  Hotel, 
however,  and  the  proprietor  paid  the  bill. 
These  brothers  are  now  two  of  the  leading 
citizens  of  Sebastapole  and  very  well  to  do. 
More  power  to  them ! 

I took  an  awful  looking  face  to  the 
next  town  with  me.  I couldn’t  take  my 


November 

opponent  with  me  to  show  what  I had  done 
to  him,  so  I surely  looked  a big  loser.  The 
grease  paint  poisoned  my  nose  and  I had  a 
knuckle  there  that  was  a fright  to  behold. 
Some  one  advised  me  to  get  some  Hall’s 
antiseptic  cream,  which  I did,  and  within 
a week  the  nose  was  O.K. 

I had  an  actor  with  me  now  who  had 
a reputation  for  drinking,  so  I signed  him 
to  an  agreement  whereby  I held  out  fifty 
dollars  of  his  salary  and  if  I caught  him 
drinking,  he  was  to  forfeit  the  fifty.  I 
was  sure  that  he  was  drinking  but  was 
never  fortunate  enough  to  catch  him.  The 
show  was  making  good  but  during  Lent 
business  was  not  particularly  encouraging, 
with  the  exception  of  Willows.  Here  we 
played  to  a great  business  for  a full  week. 
Everyone  seemed  to  know  us. 

THIS  was  mv  first  visit  here  since  1889 
when  a number  of  members  of  the 
Olympic  Club  had  given  an  exhibition  in 
one  of  the  big  Willows  wheat  warehouses. 
I boxed  four  rounds  with  Phil  Beaulo. 
My  boxing  partner,  Lovett  Lafferty, 
sparred  with  Jim  Corbett.  Bob  McCord 
was  to  have  been  Corbett’s  partner,  but 
failed  to  show  up.  The  show  was  short 
so  I was  hustled  into  a long  coat  and  re- 
cited, “Anthony’s  Address  to  the  Romans,” 
from  the  ring. 

There  was  a colored  foot  racer  by  the 
name  of  Pickett  in  town — a bootblack.  His 
supporters  claimed  he  could  beat  anyone 
in  America  for  a mile.  I remembered  see- 
ing him  run  foot  races  at  Shellmount  Park, 
near  Berkeley,  and  was  sure  I could  beat 
him.  I told  Corbett  this  and  right  away 
he  arranged  a foot  race  between  us  to  take 
place  the  following  day.  We  had  a hard 
time  raising  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars, 
which  Pickett’s  backers  demanded.  In  fact 
Corbett  pawned  his  gold  watch  before  we 
could  total  that  amount. 

Just  before  the  race  my  nose  started  to 
bleed  and  I was  leaning  against  the  fence 
trying  to  stop  it,  when  Corbett  saw  me. 
He  thought  his  money  was  about  to  bid 
him  farewell.  He  raved  and  called  me 
everything,  but  the  nose  didn’t  bleed  long 
and  in  a short  time  we  got  on  the  mark. 
At  the  crack  of  the  pistol  Pickett  ran  away 
from  me — the  crowd  roared.  He  reached 
the  quarter  pole  a good  thirty  feet  ahead 
of  me,  but  I set  after  him  down  the  back 
stretch  and  caught  him  at  the  half  mile 
pole  and  finished  the  mile  well  in  the  lead. 

Corbett  offered  me  twenty-five  dollars 
in  gold  but  I had  to  refuse  to  take  it,  al- 
though I did  want  it  awfully  bad.  Later 
in  San  Francisco  we  compromised.  Cor- 
bett paid  for  a dozen  photos  at  the  Elite 
Gallery  and  promised  to  give  me  a silver- 
headed cane. 

That  was  in  1889,  when  I was  sixteen 
years  old.  Corbett  never  gave  me  the 
cane  until  last  year  when,  during  his  visit 
to  San  Francisco,  some  of  the  old  Olympic 
boys,  Bill  Keanneally  and  Bob  MacAr- 
thur,  got  after  him.  In  fact  they  went 


1925 


©irector 


41 


Directorial  Briefs 


with  him  to  a cane  store  and  so  thirty-five 
years  later,  I received  the  cane.  It  is  in- 
scribed: Due  Frank  Cooley  1889 

Presented  by 
James  J.  Corbett  1925 

ORNING  was  our  next  stop. 

The  last  night  here  one  of  the  ac- 
tors and  myself  were  playing  the  slot  ma- 
chine and  having  a drink  or  so  at  the  hotel 
bar.  The  machine  was  a little  out  of  or- 
der and  I won  something  over  eleven  dol- 
lars before  the  bartender  turned  it  to  the 
wall.  We  started  to  leave,  but  were  in- 
vited to  have  a drink  on  the  house.  We 
readily  consented,  and  after  we  poured 
ours,  the  bartender  filled  a fourth  glass  to 
the  brim,  saying,  “Excuse  me,  I have  a 
lady  friend  in  the  box.  I’ll  take  this  to 
her.”  Then  we  treated  and  bought  a drink 
for  the  lady  in  the  box.  This  was  re- 
peated several  times,  each  glass  for  the 
lady  filled  to  overflowing.  We  thought  it 
a great  joke. 

My  actor  companion  finally  told  the 
bartender  that  his  lady  friend  had  some 
capacity.  The  bells  were  ringing  for  me, 
so  we  went  to  bed.  I was  pretty  dizzy, 
to  say  the  least,  but  had  saved  myself  by 
taking  very  small  drinks,  and  my  friend 
had  smoked  several  cigars,  so  we  were 
not  as  bad  off  as  we  might  have  been. 

The  next  morning  we  assembled  at  the 
depot  for  an  early  jump.  The  actor  that 
had  the  fifty-dollar  forfeit  arrived,  carried 
by  the  property  man  and  carpenter.  He 
was  surely  “loaded.”  I jumped  all  over 
him  and  told  him  he  had  lost  his  fifty. 

He  looked  at  me  with  a sickly  smile. 
“Oh,  no,  Frank,”  he  said,  “you  got  me 
pickled — I was  the  bartender’s  lady  friend 
last  night.” 

What  could  I say?  I learned  later  that 
he  sat  in  that  box,  drinking  free  whisky 
until  he  slid  to  the  floor  and  had  to  be 
carried  to  bed. 

We  had  a ball  team  now.  I was  the 
pitcher  and  Harry  Pollard  the  catcher. 
During  a game  in  Roseburg,  Oregon, 
Harry  caught  a foul  tip  fair  on  the  nose. 
We  had  no  masks.  His  nose  was  badly 
broken,  but  ht  refused  to  quit  and  finished 
the  game  with  the  blood  running  oft  his 
chin,  and  both  eyes  almost  closed.  We 
begged  him  to  stop  but  he  refused.  We 
opened  in  the  next  town  with  my  hand- 
some juvenile’s  eyes  blackened  and  almost 
closed.  He  certainly  showed  plenty  of 
gameness. 

Two  weeks  later  we  closed  in  the  Met- 
ropolitan Opera  House,  Portland,  after  a 
season  of  one  full  year. 

The  actors  all  had  money  in  their  pock- 
ets. I didn’t  have  much  money,  but  I 
had  forty-one  signed  contracts  for  next 
season  and  was  happy.  I had  but  one  los- 
ing season  after  that.  The  pictures  drove 
me  oft  the  road  in  1908  and  I retired  to 
my  ranch  fully  believing  that  the  pictures 
were  a fad  and  would  run  their  course  in 
a couple  of  years.  r To  Be 

I think  maybe  I was  wrong,  [concluded] 


In  directing  The  Million  Dollar  Handi- 
cap Scott  Sidney  returns  to  the  field  of 
drama  after  several  years  of  comedy  direct- 
ing at  the  Christie  studios. 

* * * 

“Slim”  Summervils,  the  elongated  mega- 

phone weilder  is  directing  Look  Out  Be- 
low, Joe  Rock’s  current  standard  comedy. 

-*■  ' # * 

A1  Rogell,  the  mascot  director,  has  com- 
pleted his  twin  pictures  The  Overland 
Trail  and  Red  Hot  Leather  featuring  Jack 
Hoxie,  and  is  busy  editing  and  titling  both 
productions. 

* * * 

Finis  Fox,  scenarist,  director  and  former 

producer,  has  been  signed  by  Metropolitan 

Pictures  and  will  augment  the  scenario 
staff  of  which  Jack  Cunningham  is  the 
editorial  chi<  f. 

* * * 

Sam  Taylor  is  finishing  the  heavy  traffic 
scenes  in  Harold  Lloyd’s  first  production 
on  the  Paramount  program  and  according- 
ly activities  on  the  picture  are  returning  to 
the  normalcy  of  six-days  a week.  For 

Heaven's  Sake  is  the  working  title. 

* * * 

The  New  Commandment,  the  first  east- 
ern-made production  directed  by  Howard 
Higgin,  is  reported  to  have  been  warmly 
received  at  a trade  showing  in  New  York. 

* * * 

The  entire  freshman  class  at  Fordham 
University  turned  out  en  masse  to  see  The 
Freshman,  Harold  Lloyd’s  current  produc- 
tion directed  by  Sam  Taylor,  thus  honor- 
ing one  of  their  alumnus.  Sam  Taylor 
graduated  from  Fordham  in  1915. 

* * * 

Bill  Beaudine  will  resume  work  under 
his  contract  with  Warner  Bros.,  upon  the 
completion  of  his  direction  of  Mary  Pick- 
ford  in  Scraps. 

* * * 

Jack  Conway  is  directing  an  all  star 
cast  headed  by  Aileen  Pringle  and  Edmund 
Lowe  in  The  Reason  fVhy,  most  success- 
ful of  all  Elinor  Glyn’s  novels,  at  the 
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer  studios. 

* # * 

After  an  absence  of  nearly  two  years 
Robert  Thornby  returns  to  the  studios  in 
the  capacity  of  director,  and  has  started 
work  on  the  latest  Christie  comedy,  The 
Man  Pays,  featuring  Neal  Burns  and  Vera 
Steadman. 

* * * 

Billie  Dove  says  being  married  to  a 
director  has  many  advantages  aside  from 
domestic  relationship  and  asserts  that  Irvin 
Willat  is  her  severest  critic. 


Paris  is  reported  as  being  scheduled  as 
Paul  Bern’s  first  Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer 
production,  the  continuity  of  which  is  being 
done  by  Jessie  Burns  from  an  original  story 
by  Carey  Wilson. 

* * 

From  the  M-G-M  lot  comes  the  report 
that  Victor  Seastrom  is  busy  lecturing  on 
American  customs  to  his  countrymen  in  the 
industry,  adding  that  he  is  “father  con- 
fessor” to  Greto  Garbo,  Mauritz  Stiller 
and  Benjamin  Christiansen,  newer  arrivals 
from  Europe. 

* * * 

Edward  Sloman  has  been  called  to  New 
York  to  supervise  the  cutting  of  his  recently 
completed  Universal  feature,  His  People. 

* * * 

Jean  Hersholt  has  returned  from  Port- 
land and  points  North  and  is  again  on  the 
lot  at  Universal  City  waiting  for  his  next 
assignment.  Hersholt  was  loaned  to  Louis 
Moomaw  to  direct  the  Moomaw  produc- 
tion T o the  Brave. 

* # # 

Concluding  his  first  vacation  in  three 
years  Reginald  Barker  has  returned  from  a 
three  week’s  trip  to  Chicago  and  New 

York,  mostly  New  York,  and  is  now  lining 
up  for  directorial  activity  for  the  fall  and 
winter.  Barker’s  trip  seemed  to  have  been 
marked  by  festivities  all  along  the  route. 
On  the  eve  of  his  departure  a dinner  was 
given  in  his  honor  at  Cafe  Lafayette  at 
which  notables  of  screen  and  publication 
world  were  present.  In  Chicago  he  was 
greeted  by.  the  Fourth  Estate  who  were  his 
hosts  between  trains  and  in  New  York 
he  was  met  at  the  Grand  Central  by  a 
delegation  from  The  Players  of  which  he 
has  long  been  a member. 

* 

George  Melford  has  returned  from 
Sitka,  Alaska,  where  he  has  been  on  loca- 
tion with  his  Rocking  Moon  company  for 
Metropolitan.  Incidentally  Rocking  Moon 
is  reported  as  being  the  first  production  to 
be  filmed  on  location  at  Sitka. 

* * * 

James  Hogan  is  busily  engaged  in  cutting 
his  recently  completed  production  for  Met- 
ropolitan, Steel  Preferred. 


Doorkeeper  Becomes  Director 

Victor  Nordlinger  has  been  promoted  from 
a gatekeeper  at  Universal  City  to  director  and 
will  make  “The  Love  Deputy,”  starring  Ed- 
mund Cobb,  supported  by  Fay  Wray,  Frank 
Newberg,  George  F.  Austin,  Buck  Moulton  and 
little  Francis  Irwin. 


42 


©irector 


November 


Off  Screen  tSSS 

Personalities 


EVERY  once  in  a while,  Fate  gets  the  man,  the  job  and  the  opportunity  together. 
Then  things  happen. 

The  stage  was  set  for  one  of  these  rare  occasions  one  afternoon  eight  years  ago 
j when  a rather  harrassed  young  man  walked  into  what  was  then  the  Paralta  Studios 
at  Mel  rose  Avenue  and  Van  Ness. 

Just  ahead  of  the  young  man  came  a formidable  looking  person  wearing  a sheriff’s 
badge.  The  young  man  didn’t  know  it,  but  his  destiny,  as  well  as  that  of  the  motion 
pictures,  was  tied  up  with  this  coincidental  entry. 

“I’d  like  to  see  the  head  of  the  studio,”  said  the  young  man. 

"That's  him  talking  to  the  sheriff,”  replied  a workman,  gloomily. 

The  young  man  was  interested.  He  had  come  to  the  studio  with  the  idea  of  pro- 
ducing a picture  and,  if  there  was  a sheriff  in  the  offing,  he  wanted  to  know  what 
it  was  about. 

It  didn’t  take  long  to  secure  the  information.  The  studio  head  had  taken  over 
the  Paralta  three  days  before,  on  very  favorable  terms.  He  had  just  learned  why 
the  terms  were  favorable.  The  studio  was  head  over  heels  in  debt,  and  the  sheriff 


43 


192  5 


©i  rector 


i 


Courtesy 
Jay  Chapman 





When  M.  C.  Levee  took  over  the  Paralta  Studios  in  association  with 

THE  LATE  Bob  BrUNTON  IT  CONSISTED  OF  A SMALL  CROUP  OF  BUILDINGS  AND 
A LOT  OF  UNUSED  SPACE.  TODAY  THE  UNITED  STUDIOS  IS  ONE  OF  THE  BIGGEST 

SPOTS  ON  THE  CINEMATIC  MAP. ABOVE,  THE  OLD  PARALTA  STUDIOS. At 

LEFT,  THE  UNITED  STUDIOS  AS  SEEN  FROM  THE  AIR. INSET,  M.  C.  LeVEE  AT 

THE  HELM  OF  ONE  OF  THE  FLOCK  OF  TRACTORS  BUSY  ALL  THE  TIME  ON  NEW 
CONSTRUCTION  AT  THE  UNITED. 


was  there  to  attach  anything  of  value, 
was  there  to  attach  anything  of  value. 

“I’m  afraid  you  can’t  produce  here,”  the 
studio  head  said,  in  conclusion.  “I’m 
afraid  no  one  can.” 

But  the  mind  of  the  young  man  had  been 
working  actively.  In  a moment,  he  was 
expounding  a scheme  by  which  the  studio 
could  be  extricated  from  its  difficulties. 
The  studio  head  listened,  first  incredulous- 
ly, then  with  hope.  Finally,  while  the 
sheriff  waited,  he  and  the  young  man 
reached  an  agreement. 

An  hour  later,  the  sheriff  was  gone,  and 
the  young  man  and  the  studio  head  had 
laid  the  foundations  for  a project  which 
was  to  have  a profound  effect  on  the  his- 
tory of  motion  pictures. 

The  studio  head  was  the  late  Robert 
Brunton,  who  had  been  art  director  for 
Thomas  Ince.  The  young  man — he  was 
then  25 — was  M.  C.  Levee,  now  president 


of  the  United  Studios  and  of  M.  C.  Levee 
Productions. 

The  project  which  -routed  the  sheriff  and 
changed  motion  picture  history  was  the  con- 
version of  the  Paralta,  then  a producing 
lot,  into  an  independent  leasing  studio,  the 
first  in  existence. 

Howt  important  the  move  was  can  only 
be  guaged  by  a remembrance  of  the  time 
in  which  it  took  place.  In  1917,  the  large 
scale  independent  producer  was  unknown. 
It  was  impossible  that  he  should  exist.  All 
important  pictures  were  made  by  the  big 
producers.  They  had  a monopoly  of  the 
facilities  for  large  scale  production,  and 
they  were  not  anxious  to  share  these  facili- 
ties with  anyone.  It  was  natural.  Out- 
side producers  would  upset  the  normal 
tenor  of  their  own  organizations.  There 
was  no  object  in  encouraging  competition. 
So  if  you  wanted  to  make  any  sort  of  real 
picture  you  could  either  build  your  own 


studio  or — let  the  people  who  had  studios 
go  on  making  them. 

But  the  time  was  ripe  for  a change. 
Imagination  and  adventurousness  was  lack- 
ing in  the  big  studios.  They  were  pro- 
ducing a certain  type  of  inexpensive  pic- 
ture, and  were  fairly  well  satisfied  with 
it.  Exhibitors  were  complaining — as  ex- 
hibitors frequently  are,  for  that  matter — 
but  it  did  them  no  good.  The  people 
with  new  ideas  did  not  have  the  studios 
and  the  people  with  the  studios  didn’t  have 
the  ideas — or  not  enough  of  them  anyway. 

There  was  danger  that  the  motion  pic- 
ture, having  progressed  in  a few  years  from 
an  experiment  to  an  established  industry, 
might  stop  there.  Had  it  done  so,  its 
artistic  development  would  have  undoubt- 
edly been  delayed  for  years,  and  the  pic- 
ture business,  as  it  is  today,  would  not 
have  existed. 

Into  this  situation,  stepped, — or  rather, 
fell — Levee. 


44 


HIS  personal  story,  like  many  others  on 
the  Hollywood  lots,  is  remarkable. 
He  was  born  in  Chicago,  sent  himself 
through  school  by  selling  newspapers  and 
conducting  a boys’  orchestra,  and  began 
drawing  an  office  clerk’s  salary  when  he 
was  16.  At  21,  he  had  $1,000  saved  up, 
and,  coming  to  Los  Angeles  with  an  uncle, 
put  it  into  an  installment  cloak  and  suit 
business. 

By  1917,  the  firm  was  doing  a tremen- 
dous business,  and  Levee,  married,  was  liv- 
ing in  an  expensive  apartment  and  driving 
a high-priced  car.  He  became  interested 
in  pictures  through  his  wife,  who  had 
brief  ambitions  to  become  an  actress,  and 
took  a furlough  from  his  installment  busi- 
ness to  become  an  assistant  prop  man  at 
$20  a week  in  the  Fox  studios.  What  he 
saw  persuaded  him  that  the  picture  busi- 
ness offered  an  easy  highroad  to  success, 
and  he  finally  sold  out  his  other  interests 
with  the  intention  of  getting  into  it. 

On  a trip  to  San  Francisco,  he  picked  up 
an  idea  for  a picture  based  on  the  Mooney 
trial.  He  secured  the  promise  of  financial 
backing  from  wealthy  labor  sympathizers, 
and  returned  to  Los  Angeles  with  the  in- 
tention of  becoming  a producer.  It  was 
to  secure  studio  space  that  he  visited  the 
Paralta  on  the  momentous  day  which  was 
to  determine  not  only  his  personal  future 
but,  to  a calculable  degree,  that  of  indepen- 
dent motion  pictures. 

The  Paralto  had  failed  as  a producing 
lot.  It  was  heavily  in  debt.  It’s  owners 
were  in  Milwaukee,  and  had  made  the 
agreement  with  Mr.  Brunton  as  a sort  of 
last  hope.  Levee  knew  he  could  not  fi- 
nance a producing  studio,  but  he  thought 
he  saw  a way  by  which  the  Paralta  could 
be  saved  from  attachment,  and  turned  into 
a profitable  leasing  lot. 

His  own  experience  in  searching  for  a 
studio  where  he  could  stage  a production 
had  shown  him  there  was  need  for  some- 
thing of  the  kind.  In  addition,  he  had 
read  in  the  newspapers  a few  days  before 
that  Mary  Pickford  and  Douglas  Fair- 
banks had  split  with  Famous  and  announc- 
ed their  intention  of  producing  their  own 
pictures. 

Perhaps  Mr.  Levee  can  himself  best  dis- 
cuss this  phase  of  the  matter. 

“It  all  came  to  me  in  a moment,”  he 
said  the  other  day  in  his  luxurious  offices 
on  the  present  twenty-seven  and  a half  acre 
United  lot.  “There  was  nothing  in  sight 
except  some  muddy  ground,  a lot  of  scat- 
tered lumber,  and  a couple  of  stages.  But 
I visioned  a real  leasing  studio,  big  enough 
to  handle  any  kind  of  production  and  with 
the  facilities  to  handle  every  detail  of  it. 
I could  almost  see  the  completed  project. 
I saw  all  the  immense  advantages  of  such 
a scheme  from  the  standpoint  of  both  the 
studio  and  the  producer. 

“I  remembered  what  I had  read  about 
Mary  Pickford  and  Fairbanks.  From  my 
own  experience,  I knew  there  were  a lot 
of  other  ambitious  actors  and  actresses  who 


Director 

could  easily  get  financial  backing  to  make 
their  own  pictures  if  they  only  had  a place 
to  produce  them.  I realized  they  had  no 
chance  while  the  big  producers  owned  the 
studios.  What  the  independents  needed 
was  a chance.  I made  up  my  mind  right 
there  that  I was  going  to  give  it  to  them.” 

It  was  the  urge  of  a dream — but  it  was 
a dream  that  was  destined  to  become  true. 

That  night,  the  future  president  of  the 
first  independent  leasing  studio  in  the 
world,  got  the  Milwaukee  owners  of  Pa- 
ralta on  the  telephone  and  made  an  agree- 
ment with  them  by  which  they  put  up 
one-third  of  money  due  the  creditors  on 
condition  that  he  should  take  care  of  the 
rest  within  a comparatively  short  period. 
Relieved  of  the  sheriff,  and  aided  by  the 
credit  he  had  established  here,  Levee  man- 
aged the  rest  of  the  financing  without  dif- 
ficulty. 

In  a few  months,  the  Paralta  producing 
studios  were  a memory,  and  the  Robert 
Brunton  Studios,  jointly  owned  by  Levee 
and  the  former  I nee  art  director,  was  mak- 
ing a successful  debut  as  an  independent 
leasing  lot. 

PART  of  Levee’s  dream  had  been  that 
Mary  Pickford  would  be  his  first  ten- 
ant, and  he  proceeded  to  realize  it.  At  the 
moment,  she  was  considering  the  purchase 
of  a studio  as  the  first  step  in  her  program 
of  independence.  It  would  have  been  an 
ambitious  step,  and  perhaps  ruinous  finan- 
cially. 

Levee  went  to  Miss  Pickford.  He  out- 
lined his  whole  plan  for  a big  leasing  lot, 
capable  of  fulfilling  every  demand  of  a 
major  production.  He  pointed  out  what 
an  immense  advantage  such  a studio  would 
be,  not  only  to  her,  but  to  every  other 
actor  or  director  with  ambitions  beyond  the 
salaried  routine.  He  appealed  to  her,  not 
only  on  the  ground  of  economy  and  serv- 
ice, but  those  of  a high  idealism. 

Miss  Pickford  still  wavered.  Then 
Levee  played  his  trump  card.  He  pro- 
duced the  plan  of  a bungalow.  At  that 
time,  such  a thing  as  a star’s  dressing-room 
bungalow  on  the  lot  was  undreamed  of. 

“Why,”  he  said,  “I’ve  even  had  this  bun- 
galow designed  for  you.  It  goes  with  your 
lease  whenever  you  are  ready  to  start.” 
The  bungalow,  drawn  and  designed  the 
previous  day  by  Jack  Okey,  art  director  of 
the  studio,  proved  the  deciding  factor. 
Miss  Pickford  signed,  and  the  next  day 
the  bungalow  was  going  up.  It  is  still  on 
the  lot  and  is  now  used  by  Norma  and 
Constance  Talmadge. 

In  a few  months,  Miss  Pickford’s  exam- 
ple had  been  followed  by  others.  The  stu- 
dio boomed.  Sets  were  smaller  in  those 
days,  and,  at  one  time,  there  were  eleven 
companies  working  on  the  two  stages.  But, 
as  business  increased,  Mr.  Levee’s  diffi- 
culties began. 

“You  see,”  he  said,  in  discussing  this 
phase  of  the  situation,  “we  were  pioneers. 


November 

If  there  were  any  mistakes  to  be  made,  we 
made  them. 

“In  nearly  any  business,  you  have  pre- 
cedent to  guide  you.  But  we  were  a 
new  thing  in  a new  field,  and  we  had  to 
solve  all  our  problems  on  the  spot. 

“The  more  tenants  we  got,  the  more 
problems  there  were.  We  started  with  a 
small  mechanical  department ; in  a few 
months  it  had  tripled. 

“I  had  made  up  my  mind  that,  no  mat- 
ter how  impossible  a tenant’s  request  might 
seem,  the  studio  would  produce  it.  Now, 
it’s  simple.  Nine  times  out  of  ten,  we 
either  have  it  in  our  big  prop  department, 
or  we  can  make  it  right  on  the  lot.  But,  in 
those  days,  it  often  required  a lot  of  pa- 
tience and  ingenuity. 

“Costs  had  to  be  estimated,  and  some- 
times we  went  wrong.  But  we  made  pro- 
gress anyway.  The  need  of  an  indepen- 
dent leasing  studio  was  great  and  when  you 
fill  a real  need,  you  don’t  have  to  worry 
about  your  eventual  success.” 

Perhaps  the  first  big  vindication  of  the 
importance  of  an  independent  lot  to  the 
motion  picture  industry  as  a whole  came 
with  the  George  Loane  Tucker  production 
of  The  Miracle  Man. 

The  Miracle  Man,  as  everyone  conver- 
sant with  pictures  knows,  established  new 
standards  of  production.  It  was  the  sort 
of  departure  which  only  an  independent 
producer  would  have  made.  Mr.  Levee 
still  looks  back  on  it  as  one  of  the  big 
steps  in  the  fulfillment  of  his  dream. 

In  1918,  the  studio  had  grown  so  that 
it  was  compelled  to  lease  thirteen  and  one 
half  acres  next  to  the  ten  acres  on  which 
the  Paralta  had  stood.  In  this  same  year, 
came  the  first  serious  setback.  There  was 
a depression  in  pictures,  and  the  big  pro- 
ducers, in  an  effort  to  make  both  ends  meet, 
began  leasing  space  to  the  independents 
themselves. 

But  it  did  not  endure.  The  producers 
soon  found  that  the  demands  of  the  resi- 
dent organizations  weighed  too  heavily 
against  their  own.  Several  who  had  left 
came  back,  and  the  business  continued  to 
grow. 

An  important  factor,  too,  in  meeting 
this  competition,  was  the  manner  in  which 
the  studio  had  continued  to  build  up  its  or- 
ganization and  facilities.  It  added  a plan- 
ing mill  to  its  mechanical  department.  It 
laid  the  first  concrete  streets  inside  any 
studio  in  the  world.  It  was  the  first  studio 
to  employ  3-ply  veneer  flats  instead  of 
compo  hoard  for  its  sets.  It  built  new 
stages,  new  dressing-rooms,  new  executive 
offices.  It  raised  its  property  department 
to  the  point  where  it  could  compete  with 
any  in  the  city,  and  then  to  the  point  where 
none  can  compete  with  it.  And,  under 
all  difficulties,  it  adhered  strictly  to  Levee’s 
precept  that  nothing  was  impossible  if  a 
client  wanted  it. 

(Continued  on  Page  56) 


1925 


©irector 


45 


PEAKING  of  fish  stories 

An  interesting  yarn  has  leaked  out 
from  one  of  the  big  studios  regarding  a 
whale.  According  to  the  story  as  told  with 
many  reiterations  that  names  must  not  be 
used,  the  property  department  of  this  w.k. 
studio  was  called  upon  to  produce  a whale 
for  a whaling  sequence.  With  memories 
of  The  Lost  H'orld  and  similar  produc- 
tions in  mind,  props  turned  to  and  fash- 
ioned a life-sized  whale  of  rubber  composi- 
tion— a realistic  replica  of  the  monsters  of 
the  deep,  fitted  with  mechanical  devices 
operating  a concealed  propeller  to  provide 
motive  force.  Something  like  $20,000  is 
said  to  have  been  expended  and  with  great 
eclat  the  “whale”  was  taken  to  deep  water 
to  do  its  stuff.  Now  natural  historians 
tell  us  that  a whale,  while  not  a fish  at  all 
but  belonging  to  the  animal  kingdom, 
spends  much  of  its  time  on  the  surface,  but 
frequently  dives  to  great  depths.  This  one 
did.  It  dived  as  soon  as  it  was  launched 
and  the  dern  thing  wouldn’t  come  up.  Ac- 
cording to  latest  reports  it  is  still  a denizen 
of  the  deep  while  efficiency  experts  at  the 
w.k.  studio  are  tearing  their  hair  at  the 
wastage  of  the  thousands  of  dollars  it  is 
reported  to  have  cost. 

* * * 

SHOOTING  in  technicolor  is  reported 
to  be  an  expensive  process  and  every 
precaution  is  being  taken  at  the  Pickford- 
Fairbanks  studio  to  avoid  retakes  and  ex- 
cessive footage,  all  of  which  developed  in- 
teresting angles  during  the  shooting  of  a 
water  scene  in  Doug’s  new  picture  The 
Block  Pirate.  According  to  the  script  one 
of  the  band  of  bold  bad  pirates  is  supposed 
to  jump  overboard  and  swim  to  the  shore 
where  the  cameras  were  stationed — four 
of  them — to  register  the  scene.  He 
jumped  all  right  but,  while  the  cameras 
clicked  off  the  footage,  failed  to  reappear. 
Minutes  passed  and  still  the  bobbing  head 
of  the  swimmer  didn’t  enter  the  angle  of 
the  camera  lenses.  Finally  he  bobbed  up 
and  to  the  pleading  and  commands  that 
he  come  out  of  the  water,  replied  “I  can’t. 
I lost  my  pants,”  and  with  that  he  dived 


again  in  his  mad  search  for  masculine  rai- 
ment. So  far  as  history  states  he  is  still 
there  searching  for  his  pants. 

* * * 

IN  fact  many  interesting  things  are  devel- 
oping at  the  Pickford-Fairbanks  lot  in 
the  shooting  of  The  Black  Pirate.  Realism 
has  been  developed  to  such  an  extent  in  the 
shooting  of  several  scenes  wherein  skeleton 
fragments  of  pirate  ships  are  being  used  to 
create  the  desired  illusion,  that  the  hy- 
draulic rocking  of  the  ships  to  simulate 
heavy  weather  has  proved  too  much  for 
numerous  members  of  the  crew  by  develop- 
ing accute  attacks  of  mal  de  mere. 

But  realism  isn’t  by  any  means  confined 
to  hydraulically  operated  ships  that  rock 
and  roll  and  pitch  on  a sea  of  sand  and 
rocks.  Certain  scenes  were  being  shot  at 
Los  Angeles  harbor  aboard  the  full-rigged 
ship  the  Lleivelyn  J.  Morse  when  a fifty- 
mile  gale  sprang  up,  snapped  the  current 
lines  and  threatened  to  blow  the  Morse  out 
to  sea.  The  pirate  band  while  good  actors 
all,  were  not  sailors  and  didn’t  know  what 
in  heck  to  do.  Upper  and  lower  tops’ls 
were  all  set  and  the  Morse  was  just  rarin’ 
to  go.  Nobody  knew  enough  about  reefing 
the  expanse  of  sail,  according  to  reports, 
and  there  they  were  pulling  on  ropes  until 
their  hands  were  torn  and  bleeding,  strug- 
gling manfully  to  “save  the  ship.”  Finally 
by  dint  of  hauling  the  yards  aback  they 
managed  to  get  her  nose  headed  into  the 
wind  until  a tug  came  up  and  took  them 
in  tow. 

And  an  added  touch  of  realism  was  given 
when,  instead  of  blowing  up  a miniature 
“in  a bath  tub”,  Doug  took  advantage  of 
the  stranding  of  the  lumber  schooner 
Muriel  on  the  bar  at  the  entrance  to  New- 
port Bay  and  arranged  to  blow  it  out  of 
the  water.  Accordingly  the  Muriel  was 
worked  over  to  resemble  a galleon  of  the 
1 7 th  century  and  blown  up  as  a sequence 
in  the  filming  of  The  Black  Pirate,  afford- 
ing genuine  realism  and  at  the  same  time 
removing  a menace  to  commerce  and  solv- 
ing an  accute  problem  for  the  owners  of  the 
derelict. 


SCREEN  comedy  usually  attains  to  the 
heights  of  laugh-provoking  humor 
after  the  film  has  been  edited  and  titled 
and  it  is  rare  that  gag  scenes  are  as  funny 
at  the  time  they  are  being  shot.  But  ac- 
cording to  Arthur  Hagerman  Fred  Guiol 
had  a heck  of  a time  out  at  the  Hal  Roach 
studios  trying  to  shoot  a scene  in  a new 
comedy  in  which  Tyler  Brooke  and  George 
Cooper  have  a partnership  gag  which 
caused  all  kinds  of  trouble. 

According  to  the  story  as  related  by 
Hagerman,  Brooke  is  supposed  to  be  a re- 
formed crook.  Cooper  is  his  unreformed 
buddy,  whose  soul  he  is  trying  to  save  at 
all  costs.  About  one-third  of  the  scenes 
shot  are  of  Brooke  looking  at  Cooper  and 
pleading  with  him  to  “go  straight”.  The 
humor  of  the  scenes  lies  in  just  how  much 
pathos  and  sadness  they  can  get  into  these 
closeups — and  many  a closeup  has  been 
spoiled  by  both  of  them  breaking  into 
laughter  right  in  the  middle  of  the  action. 

After  a fine  assortment  of  silverware  and 
jewelry  had  dropped  out  of  Cooper’s  sleeves 
and  trousers  while  Brooke  was  pleading 
with  him,  the  whole  troupe  broke  out 
laughing  and  spoiled  the  scene.  The  same 
stunt  was  repeated  several  times.  Finally 

Brooke  veiled  at  Guiol  and  his  staff 

“If  you  men  can  keep  your  minds  on 
your  jobs  for  about  one  minute  and  not 
laugh  at  this  gag,  we  can  get  it  over.  We 
don’t  want  an  audience,  what  we  want  is 
silence.” 

•sfc  ■=£ 

fi /CHURCHILL  MARMADUKE”, 
V_>  read  the  card  presented  Fred 
Schuessler,  casting  director  at  Universal. 

“Sit  down  Mr.  Marmaduke,”  said 
Schuessler,  “What  can  I do  for  you?” 
Marmaduke  settled  himself  comfortably. 
He  was  one  of  the  fast-disappearing  type  of 
old-time  Shakespearean  players,  a bit  tat- 
tered, but  still  maintaining  his  dignity. 

“I  came  to  see  if  perhaps  you  had  a place 
in  your  company  for  one  who  has  played 
MacBeth,  King  Lear,  Othello  and  all  the 
other  great  gentry  of  the  stage,”  boomed 


46 


N ovember 


Director 


out  the  deep  voice  of  the  tragedian,  “My 
price  is  $50.” 

Schuessler  regretted  he  had  no  opening. 
Then  he  remembered  that  Edward  Sedg- 
wick was  calling  for  Indians  for  his  Hearts 
of  the  West. 

“I  can  make  you  an  Indian  at  $25,”  said 
Schuessler. 

“An  Indian  at  $25,”  roared  the  old  ac- 
tor, “Sorry  sir,  but  I cannot  accept.” 

As  he  neared  the  door,  the  veteran 
stopped. 

“My  price,  sir,”  he  said,  “is  $50.  I 
cannot  play  an  Indian  for  $25,  but  I will 
agree  to  go  on  as  a half-breed  at  that  price.” 

* * * 

With  the  recent  death  of  Eugene  San- 
dow,  in  London,  Joe  Bonomo  claims  to 
be  the  undisputed  strong  man  of  the  world. 
While  age  had  somewhat  weakened  the 
iron  muscles  of  Sandow,  Bonomo’s  claim 
to  the  title  of  the  world’s  strongest  human 
was  contested  while  Sandow  lived,  but  with 
his  passing,  the  Universal  star  now  be- 
lieves that  he  is  rightfully  the  holder  of 
the  title.  He  is  willing  to  compete  for 

the  honor  with  any  strong  man. 

* * * 

PATSY  RUTH  MILLER  has  been 
having  lot  of  fun  with  her  newly  shin- 
gled thatch  of  hair.  She  has  been  regarded 
as  a staunch  defender  of  lengthy  locks  for 
so  long  that  falling  beneath  the  bobber’s 
shears  has  brought  consternation. 

Just  after  the  clipping,  hatted  in  a neat 
little  felt,  she  made  a personal  appearance 
with  other  stars  at  a benefit  fashion  show, 
and  the  man  who  introduced  the  stars  ten- 
dered a deft  compliment  on  the  wisdom  of 
Pat’s  retaining  her  individuality  by  keep- 
ing her  long  hair.  He  concluded  by  ask- 
ing Pat  to  give  a few  words  on  why  she 
never  bobbed  her  tresses. 

Pat  was  at  a loss  for  a moment — but  not 
for  long.  She  swept  her  hat  off  and  stood 
in  the  glory  of  her  new  shingle  bob. 

“I  haven’t  a thing  to  say!”  declared  Pat, 

and  the  audience  howled. 

* * * 

ALTHOUGH  studio  gatemen  in  the 
„ film  capitol  are  no  longer  fooled  by 
the  clever  disguises  of  actors,  it  remained 
for  Charlotte  Mineau,  featured  player  with 
Mary  Pickford  in  Scraps  to  “put  one  over” 
on  the  casting  director  at  the  Pickford- 
Fairbanks  lot. 

When  Miss  Mineau  was  being  consid- 
ered for  the  role  she  is  now  playing  the 
well-known  c.d.  voiced  a protest  against 
the  signing  of  Charlotte  for  the  part,  claim- 
ing that  she  was  “too  darn  attractive”  to 
essay  the  character  of  an  old  hag.  The 
following  day,  while  the  matter  was  still 
under  discussion,  a slovenly  old  woman 
walked  in  on  the  conference  and  demanded 
an  immediate  interview  with  the  casting 
director.  Indignantly,  the  c.d.  ordered 
that  the  wretch  be  ‘given  the  air’  and  it 
was  than  that  Miss  Mineau  revealed  her 
identity  and  affixed  her  signature  to  the 
coveted  contract. 


ACCORDING  to  Pete  Smith  at 
1\  M-G-M  the  surest  way  to  analyze 
the  fundamental  traits  of  star  characteris- 
tics is  to  note  the  type  of  music  they  want 
played  off  scene,  as  for  instance: 

Lillian  Gish,  at  work  on  La  Boherne, 
prefers  pensive  classics;  Raff’s  “Vavatina,” 
the  Berceuse  from  “Jocelyn,”  Gounod’s 
“Ave  Maria”  and  the  “Racconto  Del  Ru- 
dulpho”  from  La  Boheme  are  most  fre- 
quently heard. 

Mae  Murray,  starring  under  Christy 
Cabanne’s  direction  in  The  Masked  Bride, 
is  a dancer.  Strains  with  striking  rythm 
are  her  inspiration.  A jazz  orchestra 
plays  music  that  is  heavily  punctuated  by 
tympanii ; — “Lulu,”  for  instance. 

Norma  Shearer  reacts  to  violins; — “Trau- 
merei,”  Rubinstein’s  “Melody  in  F”  and 
Kreisler’s  “Olden  Melody”  are  among 
her  favorites.  Pauline  Starke  likes  modern 
comic  operas; — and  Gilbert  and  Sullivan. 
Lew  Cody  prefers  airs  from  the  French 
operas; — “Thais,”  “Louise,”  and  “La  Na- 
varraise.” 

* * ^ 

WHEN  Rupert  Julian  wants  certain 
music  for  a scene  he  is  directing  he 
doesn’t  depend  on  the  limited  repertoire 
of  the  three-piece  “orchestra”  playing  on 
his  set,  he  just  sits  down  to  the  little  ol’ 
piano  and  knocks  out  his  own  love  song 
or  whatever  is  demanded.  He  was  direct- 
ing a scene  for  Three  Faces  East  on  the 
DeMille  lot  the  other  day  and  did  his  own 
pinch-hitting  when  a particularly  touching 
melody  was  required.  Old  Man  Overhead 
chalked  up  just  ten  minutes  to  Julian  while 
he  knocked  out  a tune  that  would  have 
made  Beethoven  or  Wagner  green  with 
envy.  You  may  not  see  it  in  the  pictures 
but  you’ll  see  Walthall,  Clive  Brooke  and 
Jetta  Goudal  emoting  to  its  strains. 

* * * 

BECAUSE  Norma  Shearer’s  brother, 
Douglas,  used  to  be  a radio  fan — and 
used  to  practice  all  day  with  the  “code”, 
Miss  Shearer  has  been  able  to  cast  dis- 
comfiture into  the  souls  of  two  very  clever 
youths. 

The  boys,  evidently  amateur  wireless  en- 
thusiastic, were  looking  in  a store  window 
and  carrying  on  a conversation  by  whist- 
ling;— that  is,  whistling  the  dots  and 
dashes  of  the  code,  as  is  often  done  by  op- 
erators. 

The  Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer  star  stood 
regarding  them  for  a moment.  One  of  the 
boys  whistled  a rather  risque  remark. 

“Lobster”,  whistled  Miss  Shearer  in 

code,  and  walked  away,  leaving  two  flab- 
bergasted youths  staring  after  her. 

* * * 

Postal  authorities,  even  in  foreign  lands, 
have  their  picture  fans  as  was  proved  by  the 
postcard  Mae  Murray  received  at  the 
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer  studios  after  it  had 
traveled  from  Japan  to  Washington,  Wash- 


ington to  New  York,  thence  back  to  Cali- 
fornia to  the  studios  where  she  was  being 
starred  in  The  Masked  Bride. 

Pasted  on  it,  in  lieu  of  an  address  was 
her  photo — nothing  more.  It  was  signed 
“From  a Japanese  admirer.” 

The  Japanese  postal  authorities  recog- 
nized the  photo  and  forwarded  the  card  to 
the  Postmaster  General’s  office  at  Wash- 
ington; there  it  was  sent  to  New  York, 
where  her  whereabouts  was  ascertained  and 
the  card  forwarded  to  the  studios  at  Culver 
City.  Which  shows  that  Miss  Murray’s 
face  is  not  without  fame 

* * * 

PROBABLY  the  meanest  actors  before 
a camera  are  the  alligators  rented  to 
picture  companies  by  an  alligator  farm  near 
Los  Angeles. 

Seven  of  the  beasts  were  used  this  week 
in  Mary  Pickford’s  Scraps.  While  Miss 
Pickford  is  leading  nine  little  children 
through  the  swamp,  they  are  suddenly  con- 
fronted with  the  alligators. 

The  making  of  the  scenes  was  extremely 
dangerous,  and  the  greatest  care  was  taken 
to  protect  Miss  Pickford  and  the  children, 
as  well  as  the  workmen  who  handled  the 
animals. 

During  one  scene  an  alligator  suddenly 
snapped  at  H.  F.  Carney,  one  of  the  cam- 
eramen. Carney  was  deep  in  the  mud,  and 
could  not  move  his  boots.  So  he  slipped 
out  of  the  one  nearest  the  alligator,  and 
made  his  escape  to  shore  in  his  stocking 
foot. 

Crack  shots  with  rifles  were  stationed 
just  outside  the  range  of  the  cameramen. 

THOLTGH  accustomed  to  every  sort 
of  costume  from  Roman  togas  to  the 
rags  of  Lear,  Tyrone  Power,  celebrated 
character  actor,  donned  his  first  Indian  at- 
tire in  the  Alan  Hale  production  of  Brave- 
heart,  starring  Rod  La  Rocque.  Particu- 
larly dismaying  were  the  Indian  leggings 
which,  as  every  westerner  should  know, 
cover  the  redskin’s  legs,  but  not  his  south- 
ern facade.  It  was  on  the  heels  of  this  dis- 
covery, the  first  morning  on  location,  that 
Mr.  Power,  summoned  before  Alan  Hale 
after  an  hour’s  delay,  which  he  spent  sulk- 
ing within  his  dressing-tent,  stalked  ma- 
jestically forth,  an  injured  look  in  his  eagle 
eye. 

“What’s  been  keeping  you  Tyrone?”  in- 
quired Hale,  glancing  with  approval  at  his 
chief’s  costume  which  was,  at  the  moment, 
on  display  from  the  front. 

The  mighty  chieftain  blushed  a delicate 
pink  under  his  Duco  finish. 

“Most  extr’ordin’ry,”  he  complained 
nervously,  “Extr’  ordin’ry  mistake  some- 
where, Alan.  Some  imbecile  has  given  me 
a pair  of  trousers  without  a seat,”  and  he 
turned  on  his  heel  for  inspection  as  the 
Order  was  restored  immediately  after 
lunch. 


19  25 


motion  Menu* 

director 


47 


Exploitation 


By  The  Boulevard  Reporter 


U\J7  HAT  is  the  exhibitor’s  slant  on 
V V the  exploitation  material  which 
under  the  present  method  ema- 
nates from  the  New  York  office  of  the  dis- 
tributing company  handling  a picture — a 
picture  that  in  all  probability  was  made 
here  in  Hollywood?” 

I asked  that  question  casually  of  an 
exploitation  man  handling  a group  of 
neighborhood  houses.  His  reply  w-as 
aplenty  and  started  a train  of  thought  that 
led  me  to  get  a few  more  slants. 

According  to  his  views  the  principal  ex- 
ploitation material  received  is  contained  in 
the  press  sheet  and  he  asked,  “Why  give 
us  a press  sheet  at  all?  We  fellows  who 
are  handling  neighborhood  houses  in  sub- 
urban communities  haven’t  much  use  for  a 
press  sheet.  The  newspapers  can’t  give 
us  much  space  and  what  space  they  do  give 
us  has  to  do  double  duty  for  the  house  and 
the  picture.  The  big  fellows  can  get  their 
stuff  across  because  they  buy  advertising 
space,  and  they  usually  have  a well-organ- 
ized publicity  department  to  work  up  pub- 
licity and  exploitation  angles. 

“What  we  want,”  this  chap  went  on  to 
say,  “are  exploitation  suggestions,  stunts 
that  can  be  worked  and  that  have  been 
figured  out  from  a practical  angle ; not  a 
bunch  of  half-baked  theories  that  either 
have  no  box  office  pulling  power,  or  else 
are  so  hoary  with  age  that  they  can 
scarcely  stand,  let  alone  do  anv  effective 
work.” 

What  is  a press  sheet,  anyway? 

I went  to  a publicity  man — an  old-time 
advertising  man,  one  who  has  been  in  the 
game  “since  its  infancy” — and  I asked  him 
what  it  was  all  about. 

“Is  this  for  publication?”  he  replied. 

I assured  him  that  it  was  and  he  closed 
up  like  a clam.  Nothing  doing.  So  I 
tried  him  on  another  tack.  “Well,  sup- 
pose I don’t  make  it  a direct  quotation  or 
don’t  use  your  name,  how  about  it?” 

“Oh,  well,  in  that  case — ” 

Anyway,  he  came  through  with  some 
more  slants  on  the  subject  and  once  I 
had  assured  him  that  I wouldn’t  use  his 
name,  he  talked  quite  freely.  According 
to  his  viewpoint  the  press  sheet  as  now 
constructed  is  neither  a press  sheet  worth 
a tinker’s  hooray  to  the  newspaper  editor 
to  whom  it  is  supposed  to  be  taken  with 
the  assurance  to  the  exhibitor  that  the  said 
editor  will  glean  therefrom  the  stories  he 


wants  to  run  about  the  production  of 
“Blah  Blah”  at  the  Oompah  Theatre,  nor 
is  it  an  effective  exploitation  sheet. 

This  tied  in  with  what  I had  gotten 
from  the  exhibitors  with  whom  I had  casu- 
ally talked. 

“The  trouble  is  that  the  New  York  of- 
fice takes  the  stuff  we  write  for  publicity 
purposes  and  practically  all  of  which  has 
already  been  sent  out  pretty  generally 
throughout  the  country,  and  works  it  over 
into  a press  sheet,”  he  went  on.  “But  in- 
stead of  making  it  an  effective  compilation 
of  interesting  news  items,  New  York  be- 
comes obsessed  with  the  idea  that  the  darn 
thing  ought  to  do  double  duty  and  that 
here’s  a wonderful  chance  to  sell  the  exhibi- 
tor on  the  picture.  Result — a hybrid  prod- 
uct that  usually  fails  of  either  objective. 
Something  more  is  genuinely  needed,  just 
what  I am  not  wholly  sure  right  now.” 

HERE  was  a live  lead  that  seemed  to 
possess  interesting  possibilities  and, 
looking  for  a constructive  angle  to  the  sit- 
uation I trotted  over  to  the  De  Luxe  The- 
atre to  see  Jed  Buell  and  get  his  slants  on 
the  thing. 

I picked  on  Jed  Buell  because  he  had 
impressed  me  as  a live-wire  exploitation 
man,  an  impression  that  had  been  height- 
ened by  the  fact  that  during  the  past  few 
months  he  has  grabbed  off  three  first  prizes 
for  exhibitor  exploitation,  two  national 
prizes  offered  by  Carl  Laemmle  and  one 
local  prize.  Incidentally,  he  holds  the  rec- 
ord for  being  the  only  exhibitor  to  capture 
two  first  prizes  in  succession  and,  accord- 
ing to  Fred  J.  McConnell,  general  sales 
manager  for  Universal,  he  “leads  the  coun- 
try in  U prize  awards.”  Besides,  from  him 
I felt  reasonably  sure  I would  get  the  ex- 
hibitor slant  that  I wanted. 

I found  him  in  his  cubby  hole  over  the 
box  office  figuring  out  stunts  for  his  next 
picture  and  having  him  effectively  in  a 
corner,  put  my  original  question  to  him: 
“Jed,  what’s  your  slant  on  the  effective- 
ness of  the  exploitation  material  which, 
under  the  present  method,  you  receive 
through  the  exchange?” 

“Well,  I’ll  tell  you,”  he  began — that’s 
the  way  they  usually  come  back  when  you 
ask  a direct  question — “that’s  something 
that  I have  been  thinking  about  a good  bit 
lately  and  here  is  the  hunch  that  I have 
on  the  situation : The  press  sheet  is  about 


all  we  get  from  the  exchange  nowadays 
and  we’ve  got  to  dig  our  exploitation  ideas 
out  of  that.  But  they  aren’t  there.  What 
I think  is  the  answer  to  the  whole  darn 
thing  is  the  creation  of  a new  department, 
in  the  production  office,  something  in  the 
nature  of  an  exploitation  gag  man,  if  you 
get  what  I mean. 

“I  don’t  mean  to  imply  that  the  pub- 
licity departments  aren’t  competent  to  turn 
out  exploitation  stuff,  but  as  I see  it,  look- 
ing at  things  from  the  outside,  of  course, 
and  from  the  exhibitor’s  angle,  the  pub- 
licity man  has  his  hands  full  publicizing 
the  production  and  the  cast.  It  seems  to 
me  that  there  should  be  a separate  depart- 
ment, functioning  in  association  with  the 
publicity  department,  if  you  like,  but 
strictly  responsible  for  just  one  thing — ex- 
ploitation ideas  for  the  exhibitor,  who  after 
all  is  the  one  who  has  to  sell  the  picture 
to  the  ultimate  consumer.  The  man  for 
such  a department  would  appear  to  me  to 
be  a chap  who  combines  the  instincts, 
training  and  inventiveness  of  a publicity 
man  with  the  experience  of  an  exhibitor. 

((  PERHAPS  one  trouble  lies  in  the  fact 
Jl  that  exploitation  angles  are  developed 
in  New  York  and  not  on  the  lot  where 
the  picture  is  made,  or  in  the  center  of 
production  where  it  is  previewed  and  an- 
alyzed before  final  cutting  and  editing.  It 
seems  to  me  that  there  is  where  many 
ideas  for  exploitation  can  be  developed.  I 
know  that  I personally  get  many  ideas 
during  a preview  for  exploiting  a produc- 
tion that  I am  reasonably  sure  is  coming 
back  to  me  later  on  regular  booking. 

“As  it  is  now,  the  main  asset  of  the 
press  sheet  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  contains 
the  cast  of  players  appearing  in  the  pro- 
duction, and  I believe  that  the  average 
exhibitor  will  agree  with  me  in  this. 

“If  we  could  only  have  some  originality 
in  our  exploitation,  some  carefully  worked 
out  stunts  that  can  be  pulled — stunts  that 
are  really  practical,  not  the  cut  and  dried 
stuff  that  is  dished  out  to  us  as  a general 
thing.  Producers  are  always  hollering  for 
the  ‘surprise  twist’  and  the  box  office  angle 
in  the  stories  selected  for  filming.  We 
need  some  surprise  twists  and  box  office 
angles  in  our  exploitation  material.  Stunts 
that  will  pique  the  interest  and  curiosity 
of  our  patrons  and  which  will  tie  in  with 
the  picture  so  that  they  won’t  feel  that 


48 


November 


©irector 


they  have  been  tricked  into  coming  to  the 
theatre  only  to  be  fooled  again. 

“You  can’t  fool  ’em  all  the  time  and  get 
away  with  it. 

"But  we  don’t  get  the  surprise  twist. 
Usually  the  predominating  note  is  a tie-up 
of  some  sort,  usually  with  a proposition 
more  national  than  local.  For  instance,  a 
very  common  suggestion  is  a Gloria  Smith 
tie-up  with  Mine.  Velma’s  Facial  Cream 
or  hokum  of  that  sort.  Ten  chances  to 
twelve  Mme.  Velma  gets  $3  or  $4  a jar 
for  her  marvelous  stuff  and  very  seldom  is 
it  sold  outside  of  New  York  or  the  bigger 
cities.  What  good  is  such  a tie-up  for  the 
average  neighborhood  house  in  suburban 
community? 

“Here  is  a suggestion  that  appeared  in 
the  alleged  live-wire  ‘Putting  It  Over’ 
column  in  the  press  sheet  on  one  of  our 
current  attractions: 

“ ‘Load  a truck  with  a small  band  of 
six  or  seven  pieces  and  a mounted  wax 
figure  of  the  star,  and  parade  this  through 
the  streets  adjacent  to  your  theatre.  This 
makes  a great  flash — a wonderful  ballyhoo 
— and  will  pull  the  people  into  your  the- 
atre.’ 

“Now  that’s  a real  novel  idea  and  a big 
help  to  the  showman,  isn’t  it?  It  was 
probably  used  in  the  days  of  Caesar,  but 
they  hand  us  such  suggestions  as  this  as 
bubbling  over  with  originality. 

aiTVERYWHERE  else  the  motion 
r j picture  industry  has  made  wonder- 
ful strides.  Directorial  genius  has  created 
many  marvelous  productions.  Motion  pic- 
tures photography  has  become  a distinct 


art.  But  when  we  reach  the  press  sheet, 
things  take  an  awful  slump.  Money  is 
spent  lavishly  for  stories  and  in  production, 
but  when  it  comes  to  selling  the  picture  to 
the  ultimate  consumer,  cut  and  dried  ho- 
kum is  ground  out  by  the  yard  in  lieu  of 
sure-enough  exhibitor  aids  which  will 
bring  money  into  the  box  office  and  in- 
creased business  for  exchange  and  producer. 

“Exploitation  is  a problem  that  stares 
every  exhibitor  in  the  face  today.  Few 
productions  will  win  at  the  box  office  with- 
out it.  This  is  particularly  true  of  the 
smaller  houses,  which,  unlike  the  down- 
town theatres  with  their  greater  capacity 
and  longer  runs,  have  no  money  to  spend 
on  exploitation.” 

“H  ow  about  the  contests  in  which  you 
won  first  prizes,  did  you  get  away  without 
expenditure  there?”  I interjected. 

“You  bet  I did,”  Buell  answered;  “I 
had  to.  In  putting  over  the  exploitation 
on  The  Riddle  Rider,  for  instance,  the 
stunt  that  won  me  my  first  national  prize 
in  the  Laemmle  contests,  I spent  practi- 
cally nothing.  Here’s  an  illustration:  I 

needed  something  to  act  as  flaming  red 
bandannas  for  the  thirteen  program  boys 
whom  I had  dressed  as  cowboy's  and 
mounted  in  broomsticks  for  a ballyhoo. 
Ten  cents  worth  of  red  crepe  paper  from 
the  corner  drug  store  did  the  trick. 

“But  to  go  back  to  the  press  sheet,” 
Buell  added,  shying  away  from  the  ex- 
ploitation of  his  own  exploitation,  “one  of 
the  big  stunts  that  is  suggested  in  almost 
every  press  sheet  is  that  of  window  dis- 
plays. But  that  has  been  done  so  much 
that  it  has  lost  all  its  kick  and  only  when 
there  is  a particularly  effective  tie-up  is  a 


window  display  of  any  great  value.  You’ve 
got  to  keep  handing  the  public  something 
new  and  that  is  what  I am  hollering  for. 
The  producer  realizes  it  when  he  searches 
for  new  story  material.  The  director  real- 
izes it  when  he  seeks  for  the  new  angles 
to  be  injected  in  the  script.  The  gag  man 
realizes  it  when  he  is  working  out  new 
gags  that  will  add  punch  or  humor  to  the 
production. 

“Why  don’t  they  give  us  exploitation 
gags  that  are  planned  as  carefully  and  as 
exclusively  for  the  production  in  question 
as  the  gag  man  works  out  his  stuff? 

“I  really  believe  that  the  whole  answer 
to  this  problem  will  come  when  something 
like  an  exploitation  gag  man  is  developed 
to  work  out  the  exploitation  angles  of  a 
production  and  nothing  else. 

“Of  course  I appreciate  that  we  fellows 
on  this  end  of  the  game  are  expected  to  use 
some  brains  in  devising  new  stunts  to  fit 
our  particular  needs  and  to  sell  our  houses 
and  our  productions  to  our  patrons.  But 
I do  believe  that  it  is  entirely  equitable 
for  us  to  expect  more  direct  help  in  adver- 
tising each  individual  production  than  we 
are  now  getting.  Changing  pictures  at 
least  twice  a week,  as  most  of  us  do,  some- 
times three  and  four  times,  we  haven’t 
much  opportunity  to  work  out  stunts  for 
pictures  that  nine  times  out  of  ten  we 
won’t  see  until  they  appear  on  our  screens. 
During  the  production  period  and  when 
the  picture  is  being  previewed,  when  the 
exhibitor  advertising  is  being  planned  and 
the  paper  is  being  laid  out — that’s  the 
time  when  real  exploitation  angles  can  be 
developed  and  tested  and  relayed  to  us  on 
the  firing  line.” 


'mmm 


Photo  by  Moss 


Sunset  at  Santa  Monica 


1925 


©irector 


49 


I 


S the  motion  picture  indus- 
try a closed  shop  and  does 
“Who  do  you  know?” 
constitute  the  only  open  sesame? 

Apparently  that  is  the  view 
point  held  by  many  who  seek 
their  careers  within  its  ranks 
as  witness  this  letter  from  a 
reader  of  The  Director,  the 
answer  to  which,  because  of  the 
generality  of  the  question,  has  been  pre- 
pared by  members  of  the  editorial  staff: 

Editor,  The  Director: 

In  your  last  issue  of  The  Director  you 
ask  for  ideas  and  comment  upon  things  that 
concern  the  motion  picture  industry.  May  I 
ask  a question — What  is  the  relation  of 
higher  education  as  at  present  expressed  in 
the  universities  to  motion  pictures?  Do  the 
heads  of  this  field  encourage  college  men  and 
ideas,  or  is  entrance  into  the  motion  picture 
field  limited  to — Who  do  you  know? 

I know  of  a history  professor  with  un- 
limited experience  in  the  field  of  research, 
two  Oxford  men,  a specialist  in  the  field  of 
costume  design  and  origin  and  a great  many 
degree  holders  from  universities  of  the  West, 
all  of  whom  have  found  little  or  no  encour- 
agement, each  telling  the  same  story:  that 
motion  pictures  are  a closed  industry. 

I myself  have  had  much  the  same  experi- 
ence. After  studying  with  the  express  pur- 
pose of  motion  pictures  in  view,  I have  for 
some  time  been  following  promises  that  lead 
but  to  other  promises,  blind  alleys  and  offi- 
cious office  boys. 

This  is  not  a crank  letter,  for  I love  the 
work  and  being  young  can  still  manage  to 
more  or  less  subsist  on  dreams  and  odd  jobs 
and  continue  to  like  it.  But  motion  pictures 
being  one  of  the  largest  industries  in  exist- 
ence must  eventually  have  trained  men  of 
theoretical  background  as  well  as  practical 
experience.  To  the  point — 

It  has  been  proven  by  a great  many  cor- 
porations that  the  conducting  of  courses  in 
the  line  of  practical  experience  over  the 
various  phases  of  their  industry  more  than 
pays  for  itself  by  securing  thereby  executives 
who  fit  their  job.  This  method  is  based 
merely  on  taking  promising  young  men,  pay- 
ing them  enough  to  subsist  on  and  giving 
them  a few  months  of  intensive  training  in 
various  departments,  thus  getting  a certain 
amount  of  work  at  a cheaper  price  than  be- 
fore in  addition  to  finding  to  what  line 
various  individuals  are  best  suited.  At  the 
end  of  this  period  the  student  is  either  em- 
ployed, if  he  has  made  good,  or  all  relations 
terminated.  Incidentally  it  has  given  the 
student  a wedge  with  which  to  dig  himself 
in  and  has  supplied  a source  of  new  blood 
for  the  corporation,  thus  benefiting  employ- 
ers as  well  as  employe. 

Could  not  some  deviation  of  this  be  put 
into  practice  by  the  larger  producing  com- 
panies ? 

D.W.C.,  Hollywood. 


THE  evident  sincerity  of  D.W.C.  in 
asking  his  questions  and  presenting 
what  he  conceives  to  be  a constructive 
criticism,  accompanied,  as  most  constructive 
criticisms  are,  by  a remedial  suggestion, 
generates  a desire  to  try  and  answer  his 
query  as  fairly  and  as  completely  as  pos- 
sible. 

In  drawing  his  parallel  between  the 
motion  picture  industry  and  others  of  a 
commercial  nature,  D.W.C.  has  in  a meas- 
ure answered  his  own  question,  for  speak- 


The Directory 

A source  of  authentic 
information  concerning 
the  making  of  ep- 
« Motion  Pictures  " 


ing  generally  the  attitude  of  the  motion 
picture  industry  toward  new  blood  and 
toward  men  of  educational  attainments  is 
much  the  same  as  that  of  any  other  large 
industry. 

New  blood  and  educational  attainments 
are  always  welcome  and  are  constantly  be- 
ing sought.  But  as  do  other  large  indus- 
tries the  motion  picture  industry  prefers 
that  when  a man  of  specific  educational 
attainments  is  brought  into  the  industry 
one  of  two  conditions  shall  exist : Either 
that  such  a man  be  a specialist  in  some 
particular  field  for  which  the  industry 
needs  highly  specialized  knowledge,  or  that 
he  have,  in  addition  to  his  educational  back- 
ground either  some  experience  in  the  dra- 
matic field  or  an  understanding  of  the  pe- 
culiar requirements  of  the  industry  and  a 
sympathy  for  the  silent  drama. 

No  more  than  any  other  are  motion  pic- 
tures a closed  industry.  But  like  most 
other  enterprises  entry,  excepting  through 
the  door  of  experience,  is  difficult,  particu- 
larly so  to  the  man  who  because  he  has 
made  a specialized  study  of  some  particular 
field,  or  because  he  has  achieved  the  degrees 
of  higher  education,  is  impelled  to  the 
belief  that  he  should  step  into  a responsible 
and  well-paying  position  by  virtue  of  those 
attainments. 

Because  a man  of  such  qualifications  may 
happen  to  have  friends,  relatives  or  inti- 
mate acquaintances  holding  responsible  po- 
sitions in  the  industry  and  thereby  may  be 
given  an  opportunity  to  demonstrate  his 
value  is  not  necessarily  a sufficient  reason 
for  declaring  that  the  motion  picture  indus- 
try is  closed  excepting  to  those  who  have 
“pull”.  The  same  is  true  of  any  industry. 
Opportunity  is  sometimes  made  for  some 
individuals,  others  make  their  own,  But 
in  any  industry  the  surest  mode  of  entrance 
is  that  which  is  expressed  by  “beginning  at 
the  bottom.” 

However  there  is  one  factor  of  the  mo- 
tion picture  equation  which  is  peculiar  to 
this  industry:  The  fact  that  it  is  in  all 
probability  the  most  popular  line  of  activity 
in  our  modern  business  world, — the  most 
romantic,  the  most  alluring  and  the  most 
attractive  profession  in  the  world.  Result : 
Everybody  and  his  brother  wants  to  break 
into  it.  Figuratively  and  literally  they 
want  to  “break  in”  for  nine  out  of  every 
ten  applicants  who  apply  for  positions  seek 
to  crash  to  the  top  overnight. 

Now  all  this  invokes  the  immutable  law 
of  supply  and  demand.  With  the  gates  of 


the  motion  picture  industry  be- 
ing besieged  by  thousands  de- 
manding and  beseeching  en- 
trance, the  supply  of  available 
material  is  grossly  in  excess  of 
the  actual  demand.  Employ- 
ment offices  of  the  studios  are 
swamped  with  talent  of  all 
sorts.  Under  such  circum- 
stances experience  is  natur- 
ally given  the  preference  over  theoretical 
knowledge.  It  is  human  nature  to  follow 
the  line  of  least  resistence.  And  yet  the  stu- 
dios are  not  at  all  unmindful  of  the  im- 
portance of  training  new  blood.  Exempli- 
fication of  this  fact  is  found  in  the  establish- 
ment of  schools  for  the  training  of  special- 
ized workers  by  Universal,  Paramount 
and  other  large  producing  organizations. 

The  motion  picture  industry  has  no 
quarrel  with  higher  education,  nor  does  it 
discourage  college  men  and  college  ideas. 
Both  are  welcome,  particularly  ideas,  for 
the  motion  picture  industry  is  essentially 
creative.  But  somehow  ideas  based  on 
theory  or  evolved  from  without  the  indus- 
try by  people  who  have  had  no  practical 
experience  in  the  field  of  the  silent  drama 
seem  consistently  to  fail  through  lack  of 
understanding  of  the  principles  involved. 

In  the  matter  of  research,  not  only  does 
each  studio  maintain  a highly  developed  re- 
search department  of  its  own  with  specially 
trained  men  and  women  of  education  and 
experience  in  charge,  but  there  have  grown 
up  as  adjuncts  to  the  industry  research  or- 
ganizations who  specialize  in  accumulating 
accurate  data  on  all  sorts  of  subjects.  In 
addition  when  special  knowledge  in  any 
one  subject,  historical  or  otherwise,  is  re- 
quired that  knowledge  is  sought  from  the 
most  authentic  source  attainable. 

It  might  be  well  for  D.W.C.  to  con- 
sider that  the  production  program  of  each 
studio  in  the  space  of  a comparatively  few 
months  will  cover  a wide  range  of  diversi- 
fied subjects.  One  unit  may  be  producing 
a story  of  Ancient  Rome  and  follow  im- 
mediately with  a story  of  the  South  Seas 
and  again  with  a modern  society  drama, 
an  epic  of  the  old  West  or  a story  of  the 
French  revolution.  It  is  the  business  of 
the  research  department  to  provide  on 
short  notice  all  the  essential  data  and  facts 
necessary  to  build  sets,  design  costumes  and 
plan  the  atmosphere  of  the  locale  in  which 
action  of  the  story  is  laid.  It  is  rare  that 
specialized  knowledge  on  any  one  subject 
is  required  with  a degree  of  regularity  to 
warrant  the  retention  of  such  a history  pro- 
fessor as  D.W.C.  refers  to,  for  presumably, 
being  a history  professor  he  has  specialized 
on  that  subject,  and  equally  as  presumable 
is  the  assumption  that  he  has  specialized  on 
some  specific  period  in  the  history  of  the 
world. 

After  all,  regrettable  as  it  may  seem 
from  an  idealistic  point  of  view,  the  atti- 
tude of  the  business  world  of  today  is  not 
“What  can  we  do  for  you?”  but  “What 
can  you  do  for  us?”  The  motion  picture 
industry  is  no  exception. 


November 


50 


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Sole  Distributors 

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Telephone  GLadstone  9805 


©i  rector 

DIRECTING 
HAROLD  LLOYD 

(Continued  from  Page  14) 

gag-man  into  his  own  and  the  introduction 
of  men  of  this  type  into  the  dramatic  lots. 
Every  studio  of  any  consequence  today 
has  one  or  more  gag-men  whose  sole  func- 
tion it  is  to  furnish  gags  to  be  injected  into 
dramatic  stories.  The  improvement  in 
comedies  has  taught  audiences  to  laugh;  the 
producers  have  recognized  this  fact  and, 
like  all  good  businessmen,  they  are  endeav- 
oring to  satisfy  their  customers’  demands. 

The  result  has  been  a growing  homo- 
geneity of  motion  pictures — not  a sameness, 
but  a closer  kinship.  It  is  the  same  march 
of  events  which  can  be  traced  in  the  history 
of  any  other  art-expression.  There  will 
always  be  a small  number  of  out-and-out 
melodramas  and,  at  the  other  extreme, 
downright  farces,  but  the  in-between  group 
of  pictures  is  growing  in  volume  with  this 
increasing  kinship — and  rightly  so,  because 
it  means  we  are  giving  our  audiences 
worth-while  entertainment  with  a proper 
admixture  of  comedy  and  drama.  The 
small  circle  of  directors  and  producers  who 
have  already  recognized  the  fact  of  this 
artistic  progress  on  the  screen  is  reaping  a 
just  reward  and,  in  this  case  at  least,  the 
tendency  to  follow-the-leader  will  be  bene- 
ficial to  all  concerned. 


CUSTOMS  AND 

COSTUMES 

(Continued  from  Page  21) 

popularity  of  the  comic  opera  from  which 
the  picture  has  been  adapted  and  the  musi- 
cal theme  which  accompanies  it  and  The 
Merry  M'idow  is  another  of  the  exceptions 
that  prove  the  rule. 

In  the  category  of  costume  plays  one 
must  perforce  include  allegories  and  fan- 
tasies. The  same  basic  principles  that  ap- 
ply to  the  period  play  apply  here  as  well 
and  to  an  even  greater  extent. 

In  the  old  days  the  illusive  possibilities 
of  the  camera  prompted  the  production  of 
many  allegorical  subjects,  productions 
which  in  practically  every  instance  failed 
of  success  as  box  office  attractions.  The 
element  of  realism  as  understood  by  the 
American  public  was  lacking. 

Fantasies  have  suffered  much  the  same 
fate.  Notable  exceptions  have  been  where 
the  personalities  of  players  have  carried  the 
production  over  through  the  sheer  force  of 
personal  appeal.  Douglas  Fairbanks  in 
The  Thief  of  Bagdad  achieved  a greater 
success  than  would  otherwise  have  been 
the  case  simply  because  it  was  Fairbanks. 

All  of  which  explains  in  part  why  An- 
thony Ehler’s  scenario  Oberon  having  trav- 
eled the  rounds  has  been  consistently  re- 
jected by  American  producers.  Oberon 


might  indeed  be  a very  successful  produc- 
tion in  Europe,  visualizing  as  it  does  many 
elements  of  European  history  and  tradition 
which  have  only  an  indirect  appeal  in  this 
country  and  that  largely  to  those  of  foreign 
birth  to  whom  the  legendary  characters 
are  more  or  less  real.  But  in  this  country 
the  chances  are  100  to  1 that  it  would 
prove  a decided  “flop.” 


A BUSY  SEASON 
FOR  EVE  UNSELL 

WRITING  the  modern  screen  story, 
whether  in  original  form  or  as  an 
aptation,  calls  for  a degree  of  ver- 
satility and  a knowledge  of  human  nature 
that  is  astounding  when  you  stop  to  analyze 
things  a bit.  For  instance,  a resume  of  the 
scenario  activities  of  Eve  Unsell  during  the 
past  few  months  runs  pretty  much  the 
whole  gamut  of  human  emotions  as  well 
as  involving  an  intimate  understanding  of 
the  modus  operandi  of  some  half  dozen 
directors  and  half  as  many  studios. 

During  the  past  year,  which  Miss  Unsell 
states  has  been  “the  happiest  and  most  suc- 
cessful of  my  busy  screen  career,”  she 
has  turned  out  nine  scripts  either  as  a 
whole  or  in  collaboration.  Starting  with 
the  adaptation  of  Hell’s  High  Road  for 
Cecil  B.  DeMille,  she  followed  that  up 
with  The  Plastic  Age  for  B.  P.  Schulberg. 
Then  came  collaboration  with  James  Ham- 
ilton in  the  adaptation  of  The  Ancient 
Highway,  a James  Oliver  Curwood  story, 
for  Famous  Players-Lasky ; and  then  a 
period  of  collaboration  with  June  Mathis 
during  which  were  evolved  What  Fools 
Men!  for  Lewis  Stone  and  Shirley  Mason, 
directed  by  George  Archainbaud,  and 
adapted  from  the  book,  Joseph  Greer  and 
His  Daughter;  The  Girl  from  Mont  marts, 
for  Barbara  LaMarr  and  Lewis  Stone,  di- 
rected by  Alfred  E.  Green  and  adapted 
from  the  book,  Spanish  Sunlight,  and  The 
Second  Chance  on  which  she  is  now  work- 
ing in  collaboration  with  Miss  Mathis,  as 
a vehicle  for  Anna  Q.  Nilsson  to  be  di- 
rected by  Curt  Rehfield.  In  between  have 
been  scripts  for  three  Fox  productions, 
Thunder  Mountain,  a Victor  Schertzinger 
production  based  on  the  John  Golden  play 
Howdy  Folks  by  Pearl  Franklin;  The 
Yankee  Senor  from  the  book  The  Conquis- 
tador, a Tom  Mix  production  directed  by 
Emmett  Flynn,  and  The  Golden  Strain 
another  Victor  Schertzinger  production 
from  the  Cosmopolitan  story  Thorough- 
breds by  Peter  B.  Kyne. 


Following  his  return  from  his  trans- 
continental trip  visiting  the  exchanges,  E. 
O.  Van  Pelt  has  taken  a flier  up  into  the 
Yellowstone  where  he  shot  exteriors  on  a 
new  feature  in  eight  working  days  getting 
some  remarkable  scenic  stuff  on  the  side. 


1925 


©i  rector 


51 


Wampas  Doin' s 


By  A.  Wampa 

AFTER  a summer  of  relative  inactiv- 
ity, with  many  members  away  on 
‘long  distance  jaunts,  including  both 
President  Harry  Brand  and  Vice-president 
Tom  Engler,  the  Wampas  have  swung 
back  into  the  harness  and,  in  the  words  of 
Harry  Wilson,  are  “up  and  at  it  again.” 
Many  things  are  on  the  schedule  for  the 
fall  and  winter  that  promise  interesting  de- 
velopments. Of  which more  anon. 

The  inactivity  of  the  summer  months 
was  broken  with  a smash  September  28th 
when  Ham  Beall  took  charge  of  the  first 
of  the  fall  meetings 
— a meeting  which 
marked  the  return 
of  Tom  Engler  as 
the  van  guard  of  the 
wandering  Wampas 
who  were  wending 
their  way  westward. 
Tom’s  return  was 
an  event  in  itself, 
particularly  inas- 
much as  at  that 
time  he  was  the 
only  presiding  offi- 
cer that  the  Wampas  had,  Harry  Brand 
having  resigned  because  of  New  York  affili- 
ations. But  the  entertainment  program 
staged  by  Ham  Beall  broke  all  records  for 
snap,  pep  and  vim.  With  the  Dixieland 
Blue  Boars  from  Freddy  Solomon’s  Palais 
de  Dance  tearing  off  the  jazziest  jazz  heard 
by  the  Wampas  in  a long  while  and  the 
Texas  Tommy  team  from  the  prologue  at 
Grauman’s  Egyptian  whirling  through 
their  dizzy  dance  number,  things  moved 
fast.  With  the  genius  of  the  true  show- 
man Ham  balanced  the  program  with  the 
Bartender  Baritone,  also  from  the  Egyptian 
rendering  a reportoire  of  old-time  songs 
and  ballads  of  the  vintage  of  The  Gold 
Rush. 

Saturday  morning  October  3rd  the  S.S. 
Manchuria  docked  at  8 o’clock  with  Harry 
Brand  and  Garrett  Graham  on  board, 
Garrett  likewise  returning  from  New  York 
as  the  eastern  terminus  of  his  recent  tour. 
On  the  dock  to  meet  Harry  was  a com- 
mittee of  the  silk-hatted  Wampas  composed 
of  Joe  Jackson,  Harry  Wilson,  Norman 
Manning  and  Larry  Weingarten,  heading 
a Wampas  delegation  of  sleepy-eyed  press 
agents.  In  view  of  Harry’s  popularity  and 
his  leadership  during  the  early  part  of  the 
year,  when  he  actively  filled  the  office  of 
president  it  was  to  be  expected  that  there 
would  be  a Wampas  delegation  on  hand  to 
greet  him,  but  when  that  delegation  was 


augmented  by  a group  of  newspaper  men 
including  several  city  editors,  the  home 
coming  assumed  new  proportions  and  de- 
veloped into  a glowing  tribute  both  to 
Harry  Brand  and  the  Wampas  as  a whole. 

On  the  Tuesday  following  the  docking 
of  the  Manchuria,  a special  meeting  and 
dinner  was  held  at  the  Writers’  Club  in 
honor  of  the  returning  Wampa  at  which 
the  Fourth  Estate  of  Los  Angeles  turned 
out  en  masse.  It  is  doubtful  if  there  has 
ever  been  a greater  gathering  of  Los  An- 
geles newspaper  men  and  representatives  of 
the  motion  picture  industry  to  do  honor  to 
a publicist  than  that  which  assembled  in 
the  spacious  dining  room  of  the  Writers’ 
Club  as  a welcome  to  Harry  Brand.  In 
addition  to  the  newspaper  men  were  sev- 
eral writers  of  national  repute,  including 
Donald  Ogden  Stewart  and  Montague 
Glass ; while  the  motion  picture  industry 
was  ably  represented  by  Sid  Grauman,  Sol 
Lesser,  M.  C.  Levee,  J.  Stuart  Blackton, 
Frank  Keenan,  Lew  Cody  and  a host  of 
others. 

Coming  in  relays  from  Warner  Brothers, 
entertainers  from  the  KFWB  radio  pro- 
gram contributed  the  entertainment  fea- 
tures of  the  evening  through  the  courtesy 
of  Norman  Manning.  Manning,  by  the 
way,  having  been 
elected  to  associate 
membership  follow- 
ing the  1925  Frolic 
was  elected  to  full 
membership  in  the 
W a m p a s at  the 
September  28  meet- 
ing. 

The  surprise  of 
the  evening  was 
sprung  by  Tom 
Tom  Engler  Engler,  who  pre- 

sented his  resigna- 
tion as  president,  urging  that  Harry  Brand 
be  reinstated.  Tom’s  resignation  was  acted 
upon  and  Harry  reinstated  by  popular 

acclaim. 

With  Harry  Brand  as  the  pivotal  point 
the  dinner  developed  into  a home-coming 
for  several  other  Wampas  whose  absence 
had  been  felt  during  the  preceding  months. 
There  was  Mark  Larkin  who  had  just 

gotten  back  after  a summer  exploiting  Don 
O.,  Garrett  Graham,  who  started  for  San 
Francisco  and  wound  up  in  New  York, 
Enoch  Van  Pelt,  who  has  just  finished  a 
tour  of  the  exchanges  of  the  country;  Tom 
Engler  who  has  been  visiting  the  old  home 
folks  in  Maryland,  and  Arch  Reeve  who 


Harry  Brand 

has  been  jaunting  back  and  forth  between 
Hollywood  and  San  Francisco. 

After  rusticating  in  the  wilds  of  Kansas 
City,  Eddie  Hitchcock  has  returned  to  the 
fold  and  is  handling  publicity  at  the  Cri- 
terion. 

Pete  Smith,  publicity  director  for  M-G- 
M has  also  returned  from  a snappy  trip 
to  New  York  where  he  says  he  was  so 
busily  engaged  in — well  the  things  one  does 
in  New  York — that  he  didn’t  even  have 
time  to  convey  the  greetings  of  the  W.A.- 
M.P.A.  to  the  A.M.P.A. 

Jeff  Lazarus,  formerly  handling  public- 
ity at  the  Metropolitan  theatre  in  Los  An- 
geles is  now  handling  exploitation  and  pub- 
licity for  Boston’s  new  theatre  of  the  same 
name. 

Among  those  who  have  returned  to  Hol- 
lywood during  the  past  few  weeks  have 
been  Tom  Reed  and  Carroll  Graham,  who 
have  returned  to  the  centre  of  press  agentry 
from  Universal  City  and  have  hung  out 
their  shingle  at  6683  Sunset  Boulevard.  As 
a matter  of  fact  Tom  Reed  has  busted 
into  the  ranks  of  the  free  lance  publicists 
with  a flock  of  twenty-four  sheet  stands 
scattered  where  they  will  do  the  most  good 
announcing  that  fact.  As  an  exploitation 
man  Tom  is  a good  doctor — he  takes  his 
own  medicine. 

But  “seriously  fellows”  as  Bert  Dorris 
would  say,  ol’  Bert  himself  merits  a word 
of  commendation  for  his  handling  of  a 
difficult  problem  during  the  summer  months 
when  he  was  called  on  to  pinch  hit  for 
Harry  Brand  and  Tom  Engler. 


52 


©irector 


What  the  Direc 


DIRECTOR 

STUDIO 

PRODUCTION 

STAR 

SCENARIST 

John  G.  Adolphi 

Fine  Arts 

The  Phantom  Express 

Dave  Butler 

Tom  Hopkins 

Lloyd  Bacon 

Sennett 

Comedy 

Ralph  Graves 

Staff 

Clarence  Badger 

Paramount 

Hands  Up 

Raymond  Griffith 

King  Baggot 

United 

Tumbleweed 

Bill  Hart 

Svlvano  Balboni 

LTited 

The  Far  Cry 

All-star 

Katherine  Kavanaugh 

Harold  Beaudine 

Christie 

Comedy 

Neal  Burns 

Kingsley  Benedict 

William  Beaudine 

Pickford-Fairbanks 

Scraps 

Mary  Pick  ford 

Winifred  Dunn 

George  Beban 

F.B.O. 

Loves  of  Ricardo 

George  Beban 

Staff 

Paul  Bern 

M-G-M 

Paris 

J.  Stuart  Blackton 

Warner  Bros. 

Maryland,  My  Maryland 

Costello-Harron 

Marian  Constance 

Frank  Borzage 

Fox 

The  First  Year 

All-star 

Frances  Marion 

Clarence  Brown 

LTnited 

Kiki 

Norma  Talmadge 

Hans  Kraely 

H.  J.  Brown 

California 

Windjammer 

Billy  Sullivan 

Grover  Jones 

Tod  Browning 

M-G-M 

The  Mocking  Bird 

Lon  Chaney 

Waldeman  Young 

Edwin  Carew 

United 

Joanna  with  a Million 

Dorothy  Mackaill 

Eddie  F.  Cline 

Sennett 

Comedy 

Alice  Day 

Staff 

Jack  Conway 

M-G-M 

The  Reason  Why 

Norma  Shearer 

Loring-Lighton 

William  J.  Craft 

Universal 

Radio  Detective 

William  Desmond 

Staff 

Allan  Crossland 

Warner  Brothers 

Don  Juan 

John  Barrymore 

Bess  Meredith 

Cecile  DeMille 

DeMille 

The  Volga  Boatman 

All-star 

Coffee-Macpherson 

William  DeMille 

Paramount 

Magpie 

Daniels-Hamilton 

Violet  Clark 

Roy  Del  Ruth 

Warner  Brothers 

The  Agony  Column 

Blue-Devore 

E.  T.  Lowe,  J r. 

Edward  Dillon 

Metropolitan 

The  Bride 

Priscilla  Dean 

Finis  Fox 

Scott  Dunlop 

Universal 

Seventh  Bandit 

Harry  Carey 

Dick  Shayer 

Dallas  Fitzgerald 

Universal 

On  Her  Own 

Clara  Bow 

Francis  Ford 

Ben  Wilson 

The  Power  God 

Ben  Wilson 

George  W.  Pvper 

John  Ford 

Fox 

Three  Bad  Men 

All-star 

John  Stone 

Sven  Gade 

Universal 

Wives  for  Rent 

All-star 

Tom  Hopkins 

John  Grant 

California 

Plumb  Center  Comedies 

All-star 

Staff 

Alfred  E.  Green 

United 

Irene 

Colleen  Moore 

June  Mathis 

Wm.  Goodwich 

Educational 

Comedy 

Lupino  Lane 

Staff 

Fred  Guiol 

Hal  Roach 

Comedy 

Staff 

Alan  Hale 

DeMille 

Braveheart 

Rod  La  Rocque 

Mary  O’Hara 

Hobart  Henley 

M-G-M 

Free  Lips 

Shearer-Cody 

Loring-Lighton 

Joseph  Henabery 

F.B.O. 

Playing  Safe 

Monty  Banks 

Staff 

George  Hill 

M-G-M 

The  Barrier 

All-star 

Harvey  Gates 

James  W.  Horne 

Hal  Roach 

Comedy 

All-star 

Staff 

John  E.  Ince 

Fine  Arts 

Midnight  Thieves 

Rawlinson-Darmond 

Staff 

Lloyd  Ingraham 

F.B.O. 

The  Nut  Cracker 

All-star 

Madge  Myton 

F red  Jackman 

Hal  Roach 

The  Devil  Horse 

Rex 

Hal  Roach 

Emory  Johnson 

F.B.O. 

The  Last  Edition 

Ralph  Lewis 

Beatrice  Van 

Daniel  Keefe 

Fox 

Cupid  a la  Carte 

All-star 

Erie  Kenton 

Warner  Brothers 

Broken  Hearts 

All-star 

Gregory  Rogers 

George  Jeske 

California 

Untitled 

All-star 

Staff 

©irector 


S3 


tors  Are  Doing 


DIRECTOR 

STUDIO 

PRODUCTION 

STAR 

SCENARIST 

Henry  King 

United 

Potash  and  Perlmutter 

Carr-Sidnev 

Frances  Marion 

Charles  Lamont 

Educational 

Untitled 

All-star 

Staff 

Robert  Z.  Leonard 

M-G-M 

Dance  Madness 

All-star 

Del  Lord 

Sennett 

Comedy 

Raymond  McKee 

Staff 

J.  P.  McGowan 

California 

Mistaken  Orders 

Helen  Holmes 

William  Lester 

Robert  McGowan 

Hal  Roach 

Comedy 

Our  Gang 

Staff 

Leo  McCarev 

Hal  Roach 

Untitled 

Charles  Chase 

Staff 

Leo  Maloney 

Maloford 

The  Blind  T rail 

Leo  Maloney 

Ford  Beebe 

George  Melford 

Metropolitan 

Rocking  Moon 

All-star 

Cunningham-Clawson 

Lewis  Milestone 

Warner  Bros. 

The  Cave  Man 

Matt  Moore 

Julian  Josephsen 

Bruce  Mitchell 

Fine  Arts 

The  Ace 

Dick  Grace 

Gene  Taylor 

Vin  Moore 

LIniversal 

Comedy 

Holmes-Corbett 

Moore-McKenzie 

Jack  Nelson 

F.B.O. 

Prince  of  Pep 

Richard  Talmadge 

Jas.  Bell  Smith 

Fred  Niblo 

M-G-M 

Ben  Hur 

Ramon  Novarro 

June  Mathis 

A1  Parker 

Pickford-Fairbanks 

The  Black  Pirate 

Douglas  Fairbanks 

Staff 

Albert  Ray 

Fox 

Helen  and  Warren 

Perry-Cooley 

Kathryn  Carr 

T.  J.  Ray 

California 

Untitled 

Jackie  Ray 

Staff 

Herman  Raymaker 

Warner  Bros. 

The  Night  Cry 

Rin-tin-tin 

Chuck  Reisner 

Warner  Bros. 

Nightie  Night,  Nurse 

Svd  Chaplin 

Reisner-Zannuck 

Curt  Rehfield 

United 

The  Second  Chance 

All-star 

Eve  Unsell 

Lynn  Reynolds 

Universal 

Combat 

House  Peters 

Jess  Robbins 

Educational 

Comedy 

Lupino  Lane 

Staff 

Steve  Roberts 

Educational 

Untitled 

Lige  Conley 

Staff 

A1  Rogell 

Universal 

Gunning  Guns 

Jack  Hoxie 

A1  Rogell 

Wesley  Ruggles 

F.B.O. 

A Broadway  Lad 

Evelyn  Brent 

J.  G.  Hawkes 

Nat  Ross 

F.B.O. 

Transcontinental  Limited 

Harvey  Thew 

Vic  Schertzinger 

Fox 

The  Golden  Strain 

All-star 

Peter  B.  Kyne 

Lou  Seiler 

Fox 

The  Flying  Fool 

All-star 

Staff 

William  Seiter 

Universal 

Skinner’s  Dress  Suit 

Reginald  Denny 

Rex  Taylor 

H.  Scott  Sidney 

Metropolitan 

Million  Dollar  Handicap 

Vera  Reynolds 

F.  McGrew  Willis 

Cliff  Smith 

Universal 

Fool  for  Luck 

House  Peters 

Edward  Sutherland 

Paramount 

Behind  the  Front 

Mary  Brian 

Frank  Condon 

Jack  Straver 

Waldorf 

Untitled 

Dorothy  Revier 

Slim  Summerville 

Universal 

Comedy 

All-star 

Staff 

Sam  Taylor 

Metropolitan 

Untitled 

Harold  Lloyd 

Staff 

Norman  Taurog 

Educational 

Untitled 

Lloyd  Hamilton 

Staff 

King  Vidor 

M-G-M 

La  Boheme 

Lillian  Gish 

Edmund  Goulding 

Eric  von  Stroheim 

United 

East  of  the  Setting  Sun 

Constance  Talmadge 

von  Stroheim 

Robert  Vignola 

Metropolitan 

Fifth  Avenue 

De  La  Mott-Forrest 

Anthony  Coldewey 

Raoul  Walsh 

Paramount 

The  Golden  Journey 

Nissen-Collier,  Jr. 

C.  Richard  Wallace 

Hal  Roach 

Comedy 

Clyde  Cook 

Staff 

Herman  Weight 

F.B.O. 

Flaming  Waters 

All-star 

Staff 

Roland  West 

LTnited 

The  Bat 

All-star 

Roland  West 

Ceder  Wilkinson 

F.B.O. 

The  Mazie  Series 

Vaughn-Kent 

Lewell  Martin 

John  Griffith  Wray 

Fox 

The  Golden  Butterfly 

All-star 

Bradley  King 

54 


©irector 


November 


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MY  POLICY 


THE  ONLY  compensation  accepted 
by  my  office  is  from  artists , writers  and 
directors  under  written  contract  to  me. 

Other  engagements  which  this  organi- 
zation secures  are  consummated  gratis, 
as  a courtesy  to  the  individual  and  a 
service  to  the  producer. 

We  are  glad  to  talk  your  problems 
over  with  you. 

DEM  MY  LAMSON 

MANAGER 


Associates— 

Miss  Ruth  Collier 
Mr.  W.  0.  Christensen 
(Formerly  at  the  M-G-M 
and  Lasky  Studios) 


6683  Sunset 
Boulevard 

Tel.,  Hempstead  1802 


Jess  Smith— New  York  Representative 


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1925 

THE  ZULU 

HUT 

<•  ■*-  * 

Raymond  McKee 

cordially  invites 
you  to  visit  his 
ZULU  HUT  out  Ven- 
tura Boulevard,  two 
miles  beyond  Cahuen- 
ga  Pass.  He  hopes  you 
will  make  the  ZULU 
HUT  a meeting  place 
for  yourself  and  friends 
where  you  may  spend 
nothing  but  your  time, 
and  gaze  into  the  great 
open  fireplace  while 
you  play  at  Bridge, 
Checkers  or  what  not. 
He  tearfully  regrets 
that  he  will  be  obliged 
to  admit  folks  who  are 
bent  upon  spending 
money.  There  you  may 
be  yourself,  and  let  the 
weird  wanderings  of 
your  spirit  take  what 
form  they  will. 


Incidentally  he  serves 
whole  squab,  whole 
fried  chicken,  hot  bis- 
cuits, corn  pone  and 
honey,  not  to  mention 
the  real  coffee. 

The  Zulu  Hut 

One-half  mile  beyond  the  turn  to 
Universal  City  on  Ventura 
Boulevard. 


“SakuBona  M'Lunger” 
Zulu  for 

“I  Greet  you.  White  Man!” 


director 

Charley  Chase  Turns 
to  Activity 

By  Edith  M.  Ryan 

IN  the  annals  of  Hollywood  there  are 
numerous  cases  of  actors  who  have  be- 
come directors,  but  it  would  be  more 
difficult  to  present  a list  of  directors  who 
have  exchanged  the  megaphone  for  the 
makeup  box.  Consequently  the  hat  of 
Charley  Chase,  student  of  laughter,  thrown 
in  the  comedy  ring  is  interesting.  And  since 
it  is  there  to  stay,  it  is  timely  to  measure 
this  young  man. 


Charley  Chase 


During  his  six  years  with  Hal  Roach, 
Charley  Chase  spent  four  of  them  as  di- 
rector of  highly  successful  one-reel  come- 
dies. The  money  they  earned  would  re- 
flect credit  on  the  most  widely  known  direc- 
tor in  the  game.  And  they  are  still  mak- 
ing money. 

But  the  psychological  moment  came  and 
Charley  Chase  in  the  full  enjoyment  of 
his  prestige  as  director,  reckoned  as  one 
of  the  best  in  the  comedy  field,  burned  his 
ships  and  began  the  fashioning  of  his  name 
for  the  electric  lights,  in  the  role  of  the 
average  American  youth  who  has  been 
plunged  into  amusing  situations. 

To  Charley  Chase  has  been  given  the 
gift  of  story  weaving.  As  director  he 
wrote  all  his  stories  and  supplied  the 
“gags”.  He  has  not  escaped  the  type- 
writer as  actor.  For  the  first  year  of  his 
one-reelers,  he  wrote  thirty  stories,  and 
since  he  began  the  Charley  Chase  comedies, 
he  has  written  fully  a dozen  stories  in 
collaboration  with  Leo  McCarey,  in  charge 
of  this  unit.  When  his  year  ends  he  will 
have  completed  a better  average  than  one 
a month. 


If  you  saw  it  advertised  in  THE  DIREC- 
TOR, why  not  say  so?  That  will  cost  you 
nothing  and  will  be  of  genuine  service  to 
both  merchant  and  magazine. 


55 


Membership  in  the 

Breakers  Club  is  limited 
to  those  men  and  women 
whose  names  will  add  to  the 
high  character  of  the  club’s 
present  roster. 

Life  Memberships  now 
available  are  not  assessable, 
not  liable  and  may  be  trans- 
ferred. 

The  Breakers  Club  will  mark 
great  improvement  over  all 
shore  clubs  of  similar  nature 
anywhere  in  the  U.  S. 

BREAKERS 
C - L - U - B 

Property  at  Executive  Offices 

Ocean  Front  &_  8th  Floor  Spring  Arcade 
Marine  Terrace  541  Spring  Street 

Santa  Monica  Phone  TUcker  8085 


56 


T 

I T ISN'T  POSSIBLE 

* * * 

WITH  OUR  PRESENT  EQUIP- 
MENT 

* * * 

TO  DO  ALL  THE  LAUNDRY 

* * * 

IN  HOLLYWOOD 

* * * 

SO  WE’RE  SATISFIED 

Hi  Hi  Hs 

FOR  THE  PRESENT 

* * * 

TO  SPECIALIZE 

* * * 

ON  THE  SHARE  WE  GET 

* * * 

BUT  WE  WISH  TO  REMIND 
YOU 

* * * 

THAT  IT’S  ALWAYS  POSSIBLE 

* * * 

TO  DO  A LITTLE  BIT  MORE 

Hi  Hi  Hi 

AND  IN  THE  COURSE 

* * * 

OF  A NATURAL  GROWTH 

H:  Hi  Hi 

WE’LL  SPECIALIZE 

* * * 

ON  THE  “LITTLE  BIT  MORE’’ 

Hi  Hi  Hi 

FOR  AFTER  ALL 

* * * 

WE’RE  SPECIALISTS  ANY- 
WAY— 

Hi  * Hi 

THAT’S  PROGRESS! 


COMMUNITY 

LAUNDRY 

1001  McCadden  PI.  HOlly  2538 


1PN  MOTION  nmw 

director 

OFF  SCREEN 

PERSONALITIES 

(Continued  from  Page  44) 

IT  was  not  until  1922,  however,  that 
Levee  attained  his  whole  aim.  In  that 
tear,  he  mustered  capital,  bought  out  Brun- 
ton,  acquired  the  land  on  which  the  studio 
stood,  with  the  addition  of  ten  more  acres, 
and  became  president  of  the  corporation. 
Coincidentally,  the  name  of  the  big  lot  was 
changed  to  the  United  Studios,  and  remains 
that. 

It  was  at  this  time,  too,  that  Joseph 
Schenck,  now  chairman  of  the  board  of 
directors  and  a heavy  stockholder,  became 
an  important  factor  in  the  affairs  of  the 
organization. 

Until  he  bought  out  Brunton,  Levee  had 
been  vice-president,  treasurer  and  assistant 
secretary.  The  staff  had  been  Brunton 
hired,  however,  and,  when  the  former  vice- 
president  took  over,  the  executive  heads 
assumed  as  a matter  of  course,  that  they 
would  be  discharged.  So,  following  cus- 
tom in  such  crises,  they  turned  in  their 
resignations. 

Then  Levee  did  a characteristic  thing. 
He  called  all  the  executive  heads  into  his 
office. 

“This  is  all  nonsense,”  he  said.  “We’ve 
had  some  little  scraps  from  time  to  time, 
but  we’ll  forget  them.  I want  you  all  to 
stay.  All  I ask  is  that  you  give  me  the 
same  loyalty  you  did  Brunton.” 

They  stayed — and  they  are  still  staying. 
As  for  their  loyalty,  try  to  hire  one  of 
them.  Other  people  have. 

From  the  day  when  Levee  became  presi- 
dent, the  expansion  of  the  studio  has  been 
marked.  It  now  has  six  stages,  including 
number  six,  the  largest  in  the  world.  Two 
more  are  now  being  built  as  part  of  a 
$300,000  improvement  program  begun  in 
August. 

Producing  constantly  on  the  lot  are 
Norma  Talmadge,  Rudolph  Valentino, 
Constance  Talmadge,  Colleen  Moore, 
First  National  Productions,  Frank  Lloyd 
Productions,  Corinne  Griffith,  Edwin  Ca- 
rewe,  Henry  King  Productions,  Samuel 
Goldwyn  Productions  and  June  Mathis 
Productions. 

Each  of  the  various  producers  has  his  in- 
dividual offices  on  the  lot.  There  are  three 
star  bungalows.  The  Talmadge  sisters 
sisters  occupy  the  one  built  for  Miss  Pick- 
ford,  and  left  tenantless  when  her  needs 
and  those  of  her  famous  husband  caused 
them  to  build  a studio  of  their  own.  The 
other  two  were  built  for  Rudolph  Valen- 
tino and  Marion  Davies.  In  addition, 
ground  is  now  being  broken  for  a bunga- 
low for  Colleen  Moore.  There  are  a host 
of  dressing  rooms,  and  more  being  built. 
The  mechanical  department,  with  its  plan- 
ing mill,  blacksmith  shop,  painting  and 
electrical  departments,  now  occupies  two 
acres.  The  contents  of  the  huge  prop 


November 

buildings  are  valued  at  more  than  a mil- 
lion dollars. 

The  actual  area  of  the  studio  is  now 
twenty-seven  and  one  half  acres,  six  acres 
having  been  subdivided  in  the  spring  of 
1925.  Incidentally,  as  a sample  of  Los 
Angeles  land  values,  they  were  sold  for 
more  than  the  entire  thirty-three  acres  had 
cost  four  years  ago. 

Levee,  the  young  man  who  strolled  into 
the  studio  in  1917,  and  routed  a sheriff, 
can  sit  back  now  at  the  ripe  age  of  33,  and 
survey  the  realization  of  his  dream.  He 
does  that.  He  has  a personal  pride,  not 
only  in  the  studio,  but  in  the  pictures  which 
are  produced  in  it.  Such  pictures  as  The 
Isle  of  Dead  Ships,  Flaming  Youth,  Black 
Oxen,  The  Sea  Hatvk  and  Ashes  of  Ven- 
geance. 

When  Levee  dreamed  of  an  independent 
studio,  pictures  like  this  had  never  been 
conceived.  Would  they  have  been  if  some- 
one had  not  built  a place  where  imagina- 
tion and  ambition  could  have  free  scope? 
Possibly,  but  certainly  not  soon. 

— C.  S.  Dunning. 


Demand  for  Short  Subjects 

A greater  demand  for  entertaining  short 
film  subjects  exists  today  than  ever  before 
in  the  history  of  the  motion  picture  busi- 
ness. Exhibitors  throughout  the  country 
are  clamoring  for  wholesome  two-reel  com- 
edies that  can  be  featured  on  their  programs 
but  at  the  same  time  there  is  no  demand 
for  ordinary  ‘fillers’. 

This  is  the  contention  of  Joe  Rock,  pro- 
ducer of  Standard  and  Blue  Ribbon  com- 
edies, who  but  recently  completed  a survey 
of  the  short  subject  market. 

“Such  two-reelers  as  the  pictures  we  are 
now  producing  are  extremely  popular  with 
showmen  everywhere  as  they  are  clean  and 
entertaining  and  have  a genuine  appeal  with 
adults  and  children  alike,”  says  Rock.  “No 
longer  will  the  producer  of  suggestive  com- 
edies find  a market  for  his  product  as  ex- 
hibitors have  found  out  that  this  class  of 
so-called  entertainment  is  neither  profitable 
nor  appealing.” 

Rock  recently  mailed  a questionnaire  on 
the  subject  of  comedy  films  to  500  leading 
exhibitors  in  this  country  and  he  bases  his 
conclusions  on  the  replies  he  received  from 
this  campaign. 


Frank  Lawrence  Resigns 
Frank  Lawrence,  film  editor-in-chief  at 
Universal  City,  has  resigned  that  office, 
according  to  an  announcement  made  by 
Lawrence.  Lawrence  has  cut  and  edited 
some  of  the  most  successful  pictures  pro- 
duced by  Universal. 

Hal  Crane,  one  of  America’s  most  bril- 
liant creators  of  vaudeville  sketches,  is  to 
take  a fling  at  motion  picture  scenarios,  it 
was  learned  with  the  announcement  of  his 
new  contract  with  the  Metro-Goldwyn- 
Maver  studios. 


192  5 


57 


J— ~*V  MOTION  PH  T tst 

director 

Claims  Sitting  Bull  “Stole” 
Massacre  Scene 


CHIEF  Standing  Bear,  son  of  one  of 
Sitting  Bull's  great  war  chiefs  and 
who  is  appearing  with  several  hun- 
dred other  Indians  in  Universal’s  Hearts  of 
the  West,  takes  issue  with  history  as  to  the 
part  played  by  Sitting  Bull  in  the  campaign 
that  eventually  ended  in  the  Custer  massa- 
cre. Sitting  Bull,  in  the  language  of  mo- 
tion picture  people,  merely  stole  the  scene 
from  Chief  Gall  and  Chief  Crazy  Horse, 
two  great  war  chieftains  of  the  Sioux,  ac- 
cording to  Standing  Bear. 

Standing  Bear  was  three  years  old  at  the 
time  of  the  massacre,  is  a graduate  of  the 
famous  Carlisle  Indian  School  and  has 
delved  deep  into  the  lore  of  his  tribe.  In 
addition,  his  statements  are  supported  bv 
the  accounts  of  the  campaign  given  him 
by  his  father. 

“Sitting  Bull  was  not  a ‘brave,’  ” says 
Standing  Bear.  “Never  had  be  taken  a 
scalp.  He  was  a medicine  man  who  ex- 
ercised great  influence  over  his  people.  At 
the  time  of  the  Custer  massacre  he  was  six 
miles  away.  Chief  Gall  was  the  real  war 
leader  of  my  people.  Sitting  Bull,  he  had 


‘big  head.’  When  they  took  him  to  Wash- 
ington to  see  the  Great  White  father  he 
really  thought  he  was  to  be  made  president. 
But  he  changed  his  mind  when  he  came 
back,  and  but  for  my  father  he  would  have 
been  killed.  My  people  hated  him.  When 
he  returned,  Crazy  Horse  tried  to  kill  him 
but  my  father  held  Crazy  Horse  off  with 
a rifle.” 

Standing  Bear  takes  a rather  unique 
stand  as  to  the  ethics  of  scalping. 

“When  our  boys  came  home  from  the 
war  in  Europe  they  brought  back  German 
helmets  and  rifles  as  trophies,”  he  said,  “to 
show  people  that  they  had  really  been  there. 
When  the  Indian  took  the  warpath 
against  an  enemy  tribe  he  brought  back  the 
scalps  of  the  braves  he  had  slain.  It  was 
his  proof  that  he  had  been  to  war  and  had 
killed  an  enemy.” 

The  cast  of  Hearts  of  the  West,  includes 
such  players  as  Hoot  Gibson,  Anne  Corn- 
wall, Dustin  Farnum,  Ward  Crane,  Kath- 
leen Key,  Eddie  Gribbon,  Harry  Todd, 
George  Fawcett  and  Harold  Goodwin. 


Producing  Entire  Pictures  on 
Location 

Probably  not  since  the  film  industry  was 
“in  its  infancy”  has  an  entire  picture  been 
made  wholly  on  location,  but  that  is  what 
Renaud  Hoffman  is  doing  in  the  Redwood 
State  Park  near  Santa  Cruz  and  what 
Jack  Ford  has  been  doing  at  Jackson  Hole, 
Wyoming,  where  the  Fox  special,  Three 
Bad  Men,  has  been  in  production. 

A large  company  of  players  with  a for- 
midable array  of  props  and  equipment  have 
been  sent  to  Santa  Cruz  and  filming  is  now 
under  way  on  The  Phantom  of  the  Forest, 
Hoffman’s  newest  feature  for  Gotham 
Productions.  Both  exteriors  and  interiors 
will  be  made  in  the  wilds  with  the  old 
Spreckels’  ranch  at  Aptos  furnishing  part  of 
the  settings.  The  electric  power  company 
has  installed  transformers  to  secure  cur- 
rent from  the  main  transmission  line  sev- 
eral miles  away. 

The  Phantom  of  the  Forest  will  feature 
Thunder,  famous  canine  actor  of  the  screen 
and  is  an  original  story  from  the  pen  of 
his  owner,  Frank  Foster  Davis,  who  also 
plays  a prominent  role  in  the  picture.  James 
J.  Tynan  made  the  adaptation.  The  all- 
star  cast,  under  the  direction  of  Henry 
McCarty,  is  headed  by  Betty  Francisco 
and  Eddie  Phillips  and  includes  James  Ma- 
son, Irene  Hunt,  Rhodv  Hathaway  and 
others.  The  company  will  be  on  location 
for  several  weeks  according  to  Glenn  Belt. 


Donald  Ogden  Stewart  Signs  With 
M.G.M.  Studio 

Found  at  last!  A famous  author  who 
doesn’t  want  to  revolutionize  the  screen  ! 

His  name  is  Donald  Ogden  Stewart,  and 
he  has  just  arrived  in  California  to  serve 
what  he  calls  an  “apprenticeship”  at  the 
Metro-Goldwyn-Maver  studios. 

Stewart,  author  of  the  remarkable  suc- 
cessful novel,  The  Crazy  Fool,  recently 
purchased  by  M-G-M,  is  under  contract 
as  an  editor  and  supervisor,  possibly  to  do 
his  first  work  on  his  own  novel.  He  is  one 
of  the  best  known  authors  in  America,  and 
six  of  h is  books  in  succession  have  won  wide 
popularity. 

“I  never  had  anything  to  do  with  pic- 
tures before,”  says  Stewart,  “and  have  no 
illusions  about  revolutionizing  them — -nor 
have  I any  idea  that  I know  anything  about 
them.  I am  going  to  try  to  learn  the  busi- 
ness before  I talk  about  it.” 

Stewart  is  the  author  of  A Parody  Out- 
line of  History,  hailed  as  a classic  in  hu- 
mor, Perfect  Behavior,  Aunt  Polly’s  Story 
of  Mankind  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Haddock 
A broad. 


FOR  SALE 
Yearly  Subscriptions  to 
THE  DIRECTOR 
$2.50 

Director  Publishing  Corp. 
1925  Wilcox  Ave.,  Hollywood 


sound-casting — ? 
“let  ’em  ALL  hear” 

last  time  you  saw  this  picture 
in  this  place  the  outfit  had  just 
left  the  shop. 

our  activities  since  then  have 
been  many  and  varied. 

we  provided  both  radio  and  an- 
nouncing facilities  for  17,000  at 
maier  park  for  an  open-air  fight. 

kept  25,000  informed  during 
auto-classic  at  fresno. 

received  opera  from  kfi  and  am- 
plified it  in  Olympic  auditorium 
during  schumann-heink’s  recent 
broadcast. 

altho  our  first  work  was  on  a 
large  movie  lot  our  other  activi- 
ties have  covered  about  every 
sound-amplification  problem. 

our  efforts  in  this  field  have 
met  with  the  enthusiastic  ap- 
proval of  our  clients. 

you’ll  hear  a lot  about  our  work 
from  now  on. 


the  most  powerful  portable 
sound-casting  unit  in  the  west 

your’s  to  command — any  place, 
any  time  (if  date  is  open). 


the  radio  stores  co.,  inc. 
426  west  eighth  street 
tucker  3148 


p.  s.  we  want  more  movie  work  ! 


58 


I ~\  MfTIO*  MCTVU 

©irector 


November 


Getting  the  Third  Dimension 

On  the  Screen 


DEVELOPMENTS  in  cinematogra- 
phy presaging  results  of  far-reach- 
ing importance  in  both  production 
and  exhibition  of  motion  pictures  are  an- 
nounced by  Charles  B.  Hazlehurst  in  con- 
nection with  the  perfection  of  experiments 
conducted  by  Max  O.  Miller  in  third  di- 
mensional photography. 

According  to  the  statements  made  by 
Mr.  Hazlehurst,  as  attorney  for  Mr.  Mil- 
ler and  his  associate  in  the  development 
of  his  stereoscopic  patents,  and  as  demon- 
strated at  a private  showing  of  a test  film 
given  the  members  of  the  Wampas,  third 
dimensional  photography  is  not  only  pos- 
sible but  exceedingly  practical. 

Ordinary  photography,  Mr.  Hazlehurst 
explains,  has  but  two  dimensions,  length 
and  breadth,  but  no  depth.  The  function 
of  the  Miller  attachment  is  to  produce 
depth,  and  when  you  have  depth,  you  have 
the  “roundness”  of  objects  in  the  fore- 
ground that  creates  the  stereoscopic  effect. 

Interesting  as  this  phase  of  the  device  is 
in  its  far-reaching  possibilities  for  creating 
greater  realism  in  screen  production,  there 
are  two  other  angles  that  are  of  equal  im- 
portance, Mr.  Hazlehurst  points  out.  In 
getting  depth  the  Miller  attachment  also 
gets  distance ; and  while  these  terms 
might  at  first  be  conceived  as  being  synony- 
mous in  the  results  achieved,  there  is  a 
very  finely  drawn  distinction.  This  was 
demonstrated  in  the  scenes  of  the  test  reel 
showing  shots  of  the  Grand  Canyon  in 
which  sharp  definition  was  gotten  for  a 
distance  of  fifty  miles,  and  it  is  claimed  by 
Mr.  Hazlehurst  that  it  is  possible  to  get 
definition  for  125  miles. 

The  other  factor  involved  is  that  of  reg- 
istering scenes  on  the  films  when  there  is  a 
minimum  of  reflective  light  — after  sun- 
down, in  fog  or  rain,  or  even  at  night. 
Again  the  angle  of  “distance”  is  responsi- 
ble, for  as  explained  by  Mr.  Hazlehurst,  it 
it  possible  to  register  upon  the  sensitized 
film  of  the  camera  everything  that  the 
naked  eye  can  detect  in  the  same  amount 
of  light.  For  example,  it  is  claimed  that 
it  is  possible  to  take  pictures  during  rain 
and  register  the  same  picture  as  that  which 
will  be  seen  with  the  naked  eye. 

The  importance  of  this  feature  is  more 
far-reaching  than  would  appear  in  casual 
consideration  of  the  subject.  For  Mr. 
Hazlehurst  confidently  asserts  that  the 
problem  of  Kleig  eyes  may  be  conclusively 
solved  through  the  light  absorption  quali- 
ties of  the  Miller  attachment.  He  bases 
this  assertion  on  the  fact  that  the  glare  of 
Kleig  lights  is  not  essential  to  perfect  pho- 


tography in  steroscopic  film.  The  same 
results  can  be  procured  through  the  use 
of  simply  the  Cooper-Hewitts  and  the 
broads  by  which  daylight  is  simulated  on  a 
darkened  stage. 

THE  fundamental  principle  of  the  Mil- 
ler device,  Mr.  Hazlehurst  points  out, 
while  declining  to  make  any  further  state- 
ment concerning  the  composition  or  details 
of  the  attachment,  is  based  on  bringing  to 
the  eye  of  the  camera  all  the  light  that  is 
in  both  foreground  and  background. 

“The  ordinary  lens,”  says  Mr.  Hazle- 
hurst, “excludes  through  absorption,  re- 
fraction, reflection  and  other  qualities, 
fully  fifty  per  cent  of  the  light  impinging 
upon  the  lens.  Through  the  Miller  at- 
tachment all  the  light  that  is  available  is 
brought  to  the  lens  and  through  the  lens 
to  the  sensitized  film. 

“There  is  nothing  wrong  with  the  film,” 
he  goes  on  to  say.  “The  film  now  in  use 
will  register  all  the  picture  that  reaches  it. 
By  using  the  Miller  attachment  on  any 
camera  greater  detail  and  definition  can 
be  obtained  and  consequently  a clearer, 
sharper  picture  in  which  objects  in  the  fore- 
ground will  assume  that  condition  of 
‘roundness’  which  is  induced  by  the  depth 
acquired  in  the  background. 

“And  conversely  whatever  has  been  reg- 
istered on  the  film  can  be  reproduced  on 
the  screen  by  fitting  the  projection  ma- 
chine with  the  Miller  projection  attach- 
ment.” 

According  to  Mr.  Hazlehurst,  the  at- 
tachment has  been  simplified  to  the  point 
where  it  may  be  quickly  and  easily  at- 
tached to  any  camera  or  projector  and 
calls  for  no  other  adjustment  or  special 
apparatus. 

Like  many  others  Mr.  Miller  has  been 
experimenting  with  third  dimensional  pho- 
tography for  many  years.  He  has  worked 
for  the  past  twelve  years,  to  be  specific, 
in  perfecting  his  stereoscopic  attachment 
and  it  looks  as  though  he  had  achieved  it. 

The  demonstration  given  at  the  Writers’ 
Club  before  the  Wampas  showed  very  in- 
terestingly something  of  the  possibilities  of 
the  device.  The  first  scenes  were  taken 
after  the  sun  had  gone  down  and  were 
thirty  per  cent  stereoscopic.  The  principle 
demonstrated  in  these  scenes  was  that  of 
getting  definition  and  distance  under  con- 
ditions which  ordinarily  would  be  consid- 
ered impossible.  The  results  were  gray 
but  the  picture  was  there.  The  most  in- 
teresting features  of  the  demonstration, 
however,  centered  in  the  shots  of  the 


Grand  Canyon  in  which  some  marvelous 
results  were  obtained.  Not  only  was  dis- 
tance beyond  the  range  of  the  ordinary 
lens  or  even  the  naked  eye  procured  with 
remarkable  definition,  but  the  third  dimen- 
sional qualities  giving  depth  to  the  picture 
brought  out,  as  has  rarely  been  done,  the 
full  grandeur  and  beauty  of  the  Grand 
Canyon. 

Shots  showing  the  Colorado  river  flow- 
ing through  deep  gorges  into  which  sun- 
light penetrates  only  a few  minutes  during 
the  day,  were  shown  sharply  and  clearly 
and  were  snapped  into  extreme  realism  by 
effective  tinting.  One  of  the  most  inter- 
esting features  of  the  river  scenes  was  that 
showing  one  of  the  water  falls  in  which  a 
flickering  rainbow  playing  through  the  mist 
was  caught  clearly  and  distinctly. 

Indicative  of  the  possibilities  of  the  Mil- 
ler attachment  for  registering  scenes  in 
light  other  than  direct  bright  sunlight,  Mr. 
Hazlehurst  included  in  his  demonstration 
a shot  down  the  gorge  made  after  the  sun 
had  gone  down,  in  which  the  beauties  of 
the  canyon  were  still  clearly  visible  for 
fifty  miles  beneath  bank  upon  bank  of 
fleecy  clouds  upon  which  was  reflected  the 
last  rays  of  the  dying  sun. 

IN  the  past  it  has  been  frequently  as- 
serted that  third  dimensional  results 
were  obtained  through  the  use  of  the  ster- 
eoscopic device,  formerly  seen  so  commonly 
on  the  parlor  table,  by  a double  set  of  lens 
which  focused  each  eye  upon  a separate 
picture,  and  that  it  was  because  both  eyes 
were  used  in  this  manner  an  effect  of 
“roundness”  was  obtained.  But,  according 
to  Mr.  Hazlehurst,  that  theory  can  be  ex- 
ploded by  the  simple  expedient  of  closing 
one  eye.  An  object  that  is  round  will  still 
appear  round.  Mr.  Miller’s  preliminary 
experiments  were  based  on  the  theory  that 
it  doesn’t  take  two  eyes  to  produce  stereo- 
scopic results,  and  that  accordingly  the 
single  lens  of  the  ordinary  camera  can  be 
made  to  produce  the  same  result. 

First  public  exhibition  of  films  made 
with  the  Miller  attachment  will  be  made 
in  December  when  the  screen  version  of 
Emerson  Hough’s  Ship  of  Souls  will  be 
released  by  Associated  Exhibitors.  The 
entire  camera  work  on  this  production  was 
done  under  the  direct  supervision  of  Max 
Miller  and  with  the  use  of  the  Miller  at- 
tachment. Most  of  the  scenes  were  taken 
at  Truckee  and  because  of  the  brilliancy 
of  the  reflection  from  the  broad  expanses 
of  snow,  the  stereoscopic  qualities  were 


192  5 


59 


©irector 


Doug  and  Mary 

To  Do  Joint  Picture 


stopped  down  to  thirty  per  cent  of  their 
full  value. 

That  the  possibilities  of  the  Miller  at- 
tachment are  not  restricted  to  motion  pic- 
ture photography  is  brought  out  by  the 
assertion  that  equally  as  interesting  results 
can  be  obtained  in  still  photography  and 
that  the  attachment  may  be  used  with  sim- 
ilar effectiveness  in  connection  with  small 
kodaks  as  with  the  large  cameras  of  the 
motion  picture  and  commercial  world. 

Practical  demonstrations  of  the  Miller 
attachment  are  to  be  made  during  the  week 
of  November  9 at  several  of  the  large 
motion  picture  studios  when  direct  com- 
parative experiments  will  be  made  between 
the  cameras  regularly  used  on  the  set  and 
a camera  equipped  with  stereoscopic  fea- 
tures. The  real  test  in  these  experiments, 
Mr.  Hazlehurst  predicts,  will  come  when 
the  same  scenes  are  shot  without  the  use 
of  Kleigs  upon  a stage  illuminated  only  by 
Cooper-Hewitts  and  broads. 


Popularizes  “Mother” 
Roles 

CLAIRE  McDOWELL  has  been  se- 
cured by  Hobart  Henley  to  play 
the  part  of  Norma  Shearer’s  mother 
in  Free  Lips,  with  Miss  Shearer  and  Lew 
Cody. 

M iss  McDowell  bids  fair  to  become  the 
screen’s  sensation  in  mother  roles  with  the 
release  of  her  next  two  or  three  pictures. 
Three  of  the  very  greatest  roles  of  this  or 
any  other  year  have  recently  fallen  to  the 
lot  of  this  actress,  and  according  to  all  re- 
ports she  has  made  the  most  of  everyone. 

Miss  McDowell  plays  the  mother  of 
Ben  Hur,  one  of  the  very  greatest  parts  in 
the  great  Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer  produc- 
tion. She  also  plays  John  Gilbert’s  mother 
in  The  Big  Parade,  which  promises  to  be 
this  year’s  sensation,  and  has  won  unstinted 
praise  from  critics  and  public  alike  for  her 
portrayal  of  “Katrina,”  Norma  Shearer’s 
mother,  in  The  Tower  of  Lies. 


Superstitious  Cats 

ALL  cats  are  superstitious.  They  think 
its  bad  luck  to  work  on  any  direc- 
tor’s birthday.  Hence  the  trouble  Jimmy 
Hogan  had  the  other  day  when  he  tried  to 
get  a black  cat  to  perform  in  Steel  Pre- 
ferred. With  prop  boys  holding  the  black 
cat  and  others  trying  to  coax  it  into  acting 
natural,  it  developed  a terrible  streak  of 
temperament,  darted  across  stage  in  the 
wrong  direction  and  escaped  under  the  stu- 
dio floor,  never  to  return.  Walter  Long 
and  his  wife  happened  by  and  when  told 
of  the  catastrophy,  promptly  motored  home 
brought  two  beautiful  black  cats  not  ad- 
verse to  working  on  Hogan’s  birthday  and 
they  went  through  their  paces  beautifully. 
Thus  was  old  man  Overhead  thwarted 
again. 


RUMORS  that  Doug  and  Mary  are 
to  realize  Miss  Pickford’s  oft-ex- 
pressed ambition  to  do  a joint  picture 
have  been  confirmed  from  the  Pickford- 
Fairbanks  studio  in  the  announcement  that 
tentative  plans  are  being  formed  for  a joint 
Pickford-Fairbanks  production  to  be  filmed 
abroad. 

According  to  the  present  plans  of  these 
two  world-famoUs  stars  Doug  and  Mary 
will  probably  leave  for  a tour  around  the 
world  in  March  or  April  to  be  gone  a 
year,  returning  to  Hollywood  in  the  spring 
of  1927. 

In  the  meantime  Doug  is  busily  engaged 
in  the  filming  of  his  first  technicolor  pro- 
duction, The  Black  Pirate,  while  Mary 
is  completing  Scraps,  her  second  picture 
under  the  direction  of  Bill  Beaudine. 

Immediately  upon  the  completion  of 
Scraps  Miss  Pickford  is  scheduled  to  start 


FINISHING  his  contract  with  Mack 
Sennett  by  completing  his  last  two- 
reel  fun  film  for  the  comedy  producer, 
Harry  Langdon  and  his  staff,  have  moved 
bag  and  baggage  to  their  new  quarters  on 
the  United  Studio  lot  where  First  National 
makes  its  headquarters. 

William  Jenner,  the  comedian’s  manag- 
er, had  already  taken  space,  occupying  the 
offices  which  were  used  by  Rudolph 


THE  BIG  PARADE 

(Continued  from  Page  29) 

pulsating  drama  of  life  itself.  It  is  the 
first  production  that  I have  ever  seen  that 
has  caught  the  spirit  of  national  pride  that 
makes  the  United  States  army  the  greatest 
fighting  organization  on  earth — that  sub- 
tile yearning  to  acquit  themselves  honor- 
ably in  doing  that  which  the  situation  de- 
mands, that  brings  heroes  out  of  the  slums 
and  the  mansions  of  wealth  alike. 

I saw  The  Big  Parade  screened  without 
accompanying  music,  in  a cold,  empty 
house.  With  an  introductory  prologue  of 
the  calibre  that  has  made  Sid  Grauman 
famous ; with  a musical  score  of  the  throb- 
bing vitality  with  which  he  accompanies 
each  great  production  at  the  Egyptian, 
The  Big  Parade,  as  a Grauman  presen- 
tation, should  prove  one  of  the  greatest  at- 
tractions the  Hollywood  playhouse  has  ever 
known,  if  not  one  of  the  greatest  presenta- 
tions anywhere. 


work  on  a third  production  in  which  will 
be  recited  the  adventures  of  a shop  girl  in 
a large  American  city.  With  Bill  Beau- 
dine scheduled  to  return  to  Warner  Broth- 
ers, by  whom  he  was  loaned  to  Miss  Pick- 
ford,  upon  completion  of  Scraps,  consider- 
able interest  centers  around  the  question  of 
who  will  be  Miss  Pickford’s  director  on 
the  third  picture.  No  statement  on  this 
subject  has  been  forthcoming  from  the 
Pickford-Fairbanks  studio,  however. 

That  Mary  Pickford  intends  never  to 
“grow  up”  is  evidenced  by  her  assertion 
that  in  the  future  she  will  do  only  the  child 
parts  that  have  always  been  her  most  suc- 
cessful roles.  In  this  she  has  been  influ- 
enced both  by  inclination  and  by  the  phe- 
nomenal success  which  it  is  reported  has 
attended  the  openings  of  Little  Annie 
Rooney,  not  only  in  the  key  centers  of  this 
country  but  in  Europe  as  well. 


Valentino  and  his  organization. 

1 hese  quarters,  however,  are  only  tem- 
porary, for  the  Langdon  unit  of  First 
National  will  occupy  a bungalow — a build- 
ing separate  from  the  administration  offices 
of  the  various  companies  at  United  Studios. 

The  comedian  is  to  begin  production  at 
once  on  a five-reel  fun  fest,  the  script  of 
which  has  been  compiled  by  five  noted 
scenarists  and  gagmen. 


“Good  Old  Days” 

STAGE  hands  of  forty  years  ago,  re- 
cruited, two  from  an  old  soldiers’  home 
at  Sawtelle,  and  two  from  the  ranks  of 
screen  extras,  returned  to  their  old  craft 
during  the  filming  of  La  Boherne,  Lillian 
Gish’s  new  starring  vehicle. 

They  handled  the  old  gas  footlights,  re- 
produced in  the  theatre  scene  in  the  play, 
on  a specially  arranged  stage  at  the  Metro- 
Goldwyn-Mayer  studios.  They  handled 
the  ancient  paper  scenery,  obtained  from  the 
storehouse  of  an  old  theatre  at  San  Ber- 
nardino, and  tended  the  varied  obsolete 
stage  fixtures. 

A theatre  of  years  ago  was  reconstructed 
in  every  detail  for  the  new  picture,  which 
King  Vidor  is  directing. 


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Harry  Langdon  Moves  to  First  National  Lot 


60 


I X MOTION  Wl  TlTU 

director 


November 


A Famous  Piano 
/^Famous  People 


'7THE  Music  Lover’s  Shop  ...  so  widely  known 
as  the  artistic  rendezvous  for  things  that  com- 
plement the  home  beautiful  ...  is  proud  to  offer 
in  its  collections  of  masterpieces  the  famous  Chas. 
M.  Stieff,  Inc.,  Piano. 

This  noted  instrument  has  been  recognized  by  East- 
ern critics  as  the  Standard  in  Pianos  since  1842. 
And  it  is  indeed  fitting  that  such  a Shop  as  Rich- 
ardson’s should  be  selected  to  represent  this  great 
achievement  of  the  craftsman’s  skill. 

Screenland’s  discriminating  taste  for  the  best  will 
confirm  Richardson’s  judgment  in  its  representation 
of  the  Chas.  M.  Stieff,  Inc.,  Piano. 

To  be  had  in  Uprights, 

Qrand  or  Piano  Players 


Richardson's* 

. . O'he  Music  Lovers'  Shop 

NOW- &x  730  West  Seventh  St 


Radiolas....Victrolas 
... Imported  Art  Cab - 
inets,  products  of  the 
Music  Lover’s  Shop, 
are  to  be  found  in  the 
Southland’s  finest 
homes. 


19  25 


f ^ MOTION  uniw 

©irector 


61 


Focus 


By  Wilfrid  North 

A_,L  directors  have  been  through  it  at 
some  time  or  another.  A morning 
when  everything  went  wrong.  First, 
the  leading  woman  did  not  arrive  until 
past  ten  o’clock,  then  it  was  discovered  she 
had  dressed  for  the  wrong  episode  and  had 
to  change  her  clothes ; then,  when  finally 
she  reappeared,  and  everybody  said,  “At 
last!”  and  “Thank  goodness,  we  can  start 
now,”  the  cameraman  suggested  that  in  the 
“long  shot”  he  was  showing  a lot  of  ceiling, 
and  there  was  an  abundance  of  light,  and 
no  visible  reason  for  it,  and,  as  it  was  an 
evening  party,  he  would  advise  they  hang 
a chandelier, — and  that  was  as  far  as  he 
got.  The  director,  who  had  waited,  and 
waited,  and  waited  with  a calm  patience 
that  had  been  exemplary,  now  flew  all  to 
pieces,  and  asked  the  cameraman  “Why  in 
thunder  he  hadn’t  said  so  two  hours  ago? 
Why  wait  until  they  were  ready  to  take 
the  scene?” 

And  the  cameraman  said  it  was  not  his 
business  to  design  the  sets,  “don’t  bawl  me 
out  because  the  technical  director  had 
slipped  a cog;  no  one  has  shown  me  a 
script.”  The  poor  cameraman  had  to  guess 
whether  it  was  day  or  night,  or  stormy,  or 
a pensive  gray  light  for  retrospections ; no 
one  told  him  the  nature  of  the  scene;  and 
he  sat  up  nights  studying  the  various  aurae 
the  French  psychics  had  discovered  just  for 
the  sake  of  lighting  people  sympathetically, 
“and  a property  boy  who  knew  no  more 
about  Art  than  a Zulu  does  about  etiquette 
could  have  a script  two  weeks  before  a pro- 
duction, and  he  had  better  call  him  to  light 
it!  He  was  through!” 

Then  the  poor  director  sees — in  his 
mind’s  eye — his  pet  cameraman  leaving  the 
set,  and  pictures  him  working  with  his 
hated  rival  on  a No.  2 set,  and  obtaining 
finer  negative  than  he  had  ever  seen ! There 
surges  through  him  a feeling  that  the 
producer  might  lose  a week,  the  backer 
might  lose  his  money,  but  he  will  not  lose 
his  “pet”  cameraman.  So  everybody  is 
told  to  clear  the  stage. 

The  director  calls  the  cameraman,  and 
asks  him  just  where  he  wants  the  chande- 
lier— and  the  style  of  it — and  the  number 
of  lights,  and  tells  him  to  go  and  smoke  a 
cigarette  while  it  was  being  placed. 

Then  he  calls  the  property  man  and 
bawls  him  out  for  not  having  put  a chan- 
delier on  his  list  anyway.  “You  hear  me 
— anyway — do  that  hereafter,  have  one 
anyway ! Now  chase  one  as  quickly  as 
you  can — any  kind  of  chandelier — the 
quickest  kind  of  chandelier  you  know  how 
to  hang!  Hurry!” 

And  this  is  how  I had  a chance  to  sit 


down  by  Jim,  the  old  philosopher,  who 
was  happy  playing  extra  parts,  and  was 
now  on  the  sidelines  addressing  two  or 
three  who  loved  to  listen  to  his  wisdom. 
The  Director  hoped  Jim  was  talking  about 
“ Brotherhood ” his  favorite  topic,  so  he 
sat  near  him,  and  this  is  what  he  overheard : 

“You  have  just  patted  yourself  on  the 
back,  my  friend,”  Jim  said,  addressing  a 
nice-looking  young  fellow  in  front  of  him, 
“when  you  should  have  been  kicking  your- 
self for  not  focusing.  Have  you  ever  been 
in  a projection  room  when  they  have  been 
running  the  dailies,  or  the  rushes,  the 
rough  work  of  the  day  before,  and  chanced 
to  hear  what  the  supervising  director  and 
the  editors  have  said  to  a cameraman  who 
took  a scene  out  of  focus? 

“There’s  one  place  where  the  alibi  won’t 
work.  If  a scene  is  out  of  focus,  it  is  the 
fault  of  the  cameraman,  and  if  a screw  is 
loose,  or  someone  has  kicked  his  tripod,  it 
is  the  fault  of  the  cameraman ! Do  you 
get  me?  And  if  you  are  out  of  focus,  it 
is  your  fault,  because  you  adjust  your  own 
actions.  Now  you  have  just  stated  that 
you  are  a very  good  life  insurance  agent; 
can  sell  insurance  to  anybody  you  start 
after.  Then,  why  in  heck  are  you  trying 
to  act  You  are  not  a good  actor,  to  my 
mind. 

“You  have  intelligence  and  look  well, 
and  you  do  what  the  director  requests  you 
to  do,  but  that  isn’t  acting.  Acting  is  living 
the  part  you  are  impersonating  for  the 
time  being;  thinking  as  he  thinks;  moving 
as  he  moves;  being  the  character,  and  not 
yourself. 

“You  make  me  think  of  an  undertaker 
who  thought  he  would  put  his  profits  into 
a more  pleasant  mode  of  living,  so  he 
started  a green  grocer’s  establishment  two 
doors  away,  and  went  into  debt  to  finish 
building  it.  Then  someone  said  ‘he  sold 
bad  vegetables  in  the  hope  of  helping  his 
undertaking  trade,’  and  the  joke  was  told 
as  a truth,  and  the  people  stopped  trading 
at  the  store,  and  he  failed  and  died,  and 
proved  himself  a job  for  his  own  under- 
taking establishment. 

“Now,  my  boy,  don’t  think  you  can  be 
a jack  of  all  trades  and  succeed  at  them 
all.  You  must  be  a master  of  one  thing 
today.  You  live  in  a day  of  specializing. 
If  you  take  cognizance  of  directors — they 
specialize!  One  handles  horses  very  much 
better  than  the  rest.  Another  is  a society 
director  who  knows  society;  how  the  ne 
plus  ultra  dresses  and  acts;  another  is  suc- 
cessful with  children ; another  knows  the 
West.  See  what  I mean?  Don’t  flatter 
yourself  that  you  are  a good  actor,  but 


that  you  are  a better  insurance  man.  Go 
and  be  a still  better  insurance  man,  and 
give  a real  actor  a chance  to  play  your 
part.  See  what  I mean  by  ‘focusing’  your- 
self?” 

And  by  this  time  the  chandelier  was 
hung;  and  the  director  rose,  saying  to  him- 
self, “By  George,  I’m  going  to  focus!” 

And  he  did! 


“Gag”  Men  Organize  Club 

Now  the  “gag”  men  of  movieland  are 
to  have  their  own  social  organization.  The 
boys  who  put  the  ‘kicks’  in  up-to-the-minute 
screen  entertainment  are  organizing  a so- 
ciety to  be  known  as  the  “Re-writer’s  Club” 
and  they  have  asked  Tom  McNamara, 
who  at  various  timejc  in  the  past  has 
“gagged”  many  pictures,  to  head  the  asso- 
ciation as  president.  However,  as  McNa- 
mara is  no  longer  a “gagger”  he  has  de- 
clined the  office  but  has  promised  to  assist 
in  the  perfecting  of  the  organization. 

Members  of  the  Re-writers  earn  their 
living  by  editing  and  improving  on  the  ma- 
terial turned  out  by  the  personnel  of  the 
Writer’s  Club — so  they  say.  Be  that  as 
is  may,  the  gag  men  are  now  to  come  into 
their  own  by  boasting  of  as  fine  a club 
house  as  there  is  in  all  Hollywood. 


Billie  Dove  Becomes  “Color  Girl 
of  Films” 

Billie  Dove,  appearing  opposite  Douglas 
Fairbanks  in  The  Black  Pirate,  is  rapidly 
becoming  known  as  “The  Color  Girl  of 
Pictures”. 

The  reason  is  that  Miss  Dove  has  been 
specializing  in  color  films ; in  fact,  she  is  a 
pioneer  in  this  field.  Her  first  fame  as 
a featured  player  in  an  all-color  picture 
came  with  her  appearance  in  Irvin  Willat’s 
production  of  the  Zane  Grey  story,  “Wan- 
derers of  the  Wasteland”.  In  this  photo- 
play her  rich  coloring,  quaint  charm  and 
buoyant  personality  proved  her  superiority 
in  natural  color  pictures.  In  fact,  her 
work  in  “Wanderers  of  the  Wasteland” 
did  much  to  influence  Douglas  Fairbanks’ 
selection  of  her  for  his  lead  in  The  Black 
Pirate,  another  epic  in  color. 


Hands  As  Character  Indices 

Judging  men  by  their  hands,  their  man- 
ner, and  their  faces,  as  Conan  Doyle  made 
Sherlock  Holmes  do  in  his  novels,  isn’t  as 
fantastic  and  practical  as  it  may  sound. 
According  to  Lon  Chaney,  it’s  very  prac- 
tical indeed. 

Chaney  has  made  a lifelong  study  of 
reading  character  from  external  appear- 
ances, and  often  astounds  co-workers  at  the 
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer  studios  by  wag- 
ering on  his  ability  to  tell  at  a glance  a 
man’s  occupation  or  antecedents.  He  sel- 
dom fails  to  win  in  his  queer  game. 

“Just  a matter  of  observation — and  de- 
duction,” he  says.  And  he  didn’t  mean  to 
quote  Sherlock  Holmes,  either. 


62 


©Irector 


N ovembe) 


Side  Lights  on 

Production  Costs 

By  C.  S.  Dunning 


EVER5  business  man  realizes  the 
value  of  a motion  picture  plant  to 
a city,  from  the  standpoint  of  publi- 
city and  general  advertising. 

But  how  many  of  them  appreciate  the 
value  of  a big  motion  picture  concern  pure- 
ly as  a business  asset — considered  on  the 
same  footing  as  a cracker  factory,  a pack- 
ing house  or  an  automobile  plant  ? 

Not  many  probably.  Yet  even  a cursory 
survey  of  such  a plant  shows  that,  as  a 
source  of  income  to  a city,  it  compares 
more  than  favorably  with  nearly  any 
manufacturing  industry  that  could  be 
named. 

Take  the  United  Studios,  the  big  in- 
dependent lot  of  Southern  California — the 
biggest  independent  lot  in  the  world,  in 
fact.  A little  conversation  with  M.  C. 
Levee,  President,  and  with  R.  W.  Allison, 
his  assistant,  will  give  an  idea  of  what 
such  a plant  means  to  a city. 

The  United  lot,  you  will  learn  in  the 
first  place,  represents  a standing  invest- 
ment of  $2,000,000 — land,  buildings  and 
property  on  the  lot.  Sometimes,  owing  to 
the  vagaries  of  the  business,  the  property 
may  be  greater  or  less  in  value,  but  that  is 
about  the  average. 

The  lot  covers  27 J4  acres,  about  as 
much  as  a big  factory.  It  has  a regular 
pay-roll — exclusive  of  actors  and  including 
only  the  regular  employees  of  the  United 
Studios — of  from  $20,000  to  $40,000  a 
week. 

There  are  never  less  than  350  persons 
regularly  employed,  and,  in  times  of  large 
production,  which  covers  about  half  the 
year,  there  are  from  500  to  700. 

To  this,  it  may  be  only  partially  fair 
to  add  to  the  salaries  of  the  actors  and 
other  employees  of  the  companies  which 
regularly  produce  at  the  United  Studios. 
Still,  if  there  was  no  plant,  there  would 
be  no  actors,  so  it  is  at  least  worth  taking 
into  consideration. 

Well,  there  are  ten  companies  which 
produce  regularly  at  the  United  Studios, 
including  the  First  National.  Norma  and 
Constance  Talmadge,  Samuel  Goldwyn, 
M.  C.  Levee,  Frank  Lloyd,  Edwin  Carewe 
and  Rudolph  Valentino.  The  income 
of  some  of  the  stars  involved  is  so  well 
known  that  it  is  scarcely  mentioned.  To 
add  up  that  of  all  the  actors  who  produce 
on  the  lot  during  the  year  would  involve 
too  much  inter-company  prying  to  be 
practicable.  It  can  be  approximated,  how- 
ever, and,  when  it  is,  quite  conservatively, 
it  reaches  the  staggering  sum  of  $2,000,- 
000  a year. 


At  least  half  of  that  $2,000,000 — and 
probably  more — goes  back  into  the  de- 
velopment of  Hollywood  and  of  the  city 
of  which  it  is  a part,  Los  Angeles. 

With  the  studio  employees,  this  makes 
a yearly  payroll  of  at  least  $4,000,000, 
surely  a sizeable  addition  to  the  wealth 
of  any  city,  and  something  for  the  mer- 
chants and  business  men  generally  to  re- 
gard with  satisfaction. 

This  is  the  outstanding  item,  as  the  pay- 
roll is  always  in  industrial  computations. 
But  it  is  not  all  by  any  means. 

Studios  require  vast  amounts  of  varie- 
gated materials.  Many  of  these  are  ex- 
pensive; virtually  all  are  purchased  within 
the  city. 

An  example  is  lumber.  The  United 
Studios  pay  out  an  average  of  $200,000  a 
year  for  lumber,  mostly  to  be  used  in  the 
construction  of  sets  and  temporary  build- 
ings. 

The  electric  light  and  power  bills  aver- 
age $1,500  a month — -and  this  in  a city 
where  electricity  is  much  cheaper  than  in 
the  average  municipality. 

A paint  bill  of  $20,000  a year  is  another 
item. 


THE  largest  production  schedule  ever 
launched  at  LTiversal  City  will  be 
projected  at  the  “U”  studios  next 
season  according  to  Edward  J.  Montagne, 
scenario  editor,  who  announces  a produc- 
tion budget  in  excess  of  $5,000,000. 

The  next  Mary  Philbin  vehicle  will  be 
Going  Straight,  from  an  original  story  by 
Raymond  L.  Schrock,  being  prepared  by 
Monte  Katterjohn. 

So  far,  three  stories  are  in  preparation  for 
Reginald  Denny;  Byron  Morgan’s  The 
Love  Thrill,  being  scenarized  by  Don  Lee; 
Ray  Cannon  is  preparing  Follow  the  Signs; 
and  the  well-known  play  Rolling  Home, 
by  John  Hunter  Booth,  is  being  done  into 
script  form  by  Rex  Taylor. 

Laura  La  Plante  will  do  Brides  Will  Be 
Brides,  the  famous  story  by  Lucille  Van 
Slyke.  The  scenario  for  this  picture  is  be- 
ing prepared  by  Charles  Kenyon. 

Hoot  Gibson’s  next  big  picture  will  be 
George  W.  Ogden’s  The  Cow  Jerry,  the 
script  for  which  is  now  being  made  by 
Marian  Jackson. 

Herbert  Blache  is  making  his  own  adap- 
tation of  Crimes  of  the  Armchair  Club,  as 
a special  on  the  1926  program. 


Stone  and  brick  must  sometimes  be  used 
in  the  building  of  sets,  and  this  combined 
bill  averages  $5,000. 

Flowers  and  trees  are  often  required, 
and  nursery  men  and  florists  get  an  average 
of  $10,000  per  annum. 

Looking  further  down  the  list  of  ex- 
penditures, you  find  “salt”  $500.  You 
are  puzzled  as  to  what  any  business  can 
do  with  $500  worth  of  salt.  Then  you 
remember  that  salt  is  the  only  thing  which 
provides  a good  imitation  of  drifted  snow, 
and  you  understand.  Similarly,  it  is  easy 
to  explain  an  item  of  “paper,  $500.” 
Paper  is  used  for  falling  snow. 

A large  item  obtrudes.  It  is  “canvas, 
$7,200.”  Canvas  is  expensive,  and  great 
amounts  of  it  are  used  for  scenery.  Some- 
times a thousand  dollars  worth  is  painted, 
and  then  scrapped.  The  scene  does  not 
suit.  In  its  nature,  the  motion  picture 
business  must  often  seem  extravagant  and 
wasteful,  but  the  city  gets  the  benefit. 

Here  are  a few  other  entries  which  may 
give  an  idea  of  the  steady  outgo  which 
makes  a studio  valuable  to  a city:  Lime, 

$198;  cement,  $375;  copper,  $1,250;  roof- 
ing, $740;  floor  wax,  $670;  pipe,  $452; 
silk,  $3,800;  fan  blowers,  $800;  ice,  $1,- 
200;  hose  (fire)  $350;  glass,  $1,058; 
furniture,  $200,000  and  cotton  waste,  $75. 

Similar  items  could  be  quoted  by  the 
yard.  The  United  Studios,  it  must  be 
understood,  leases  out  its  facilities  to  in- 
dependent producers,  and  gives  them  what 
they  want  when  they  order  it,  whether  it 
is  a grand  piano  or  a baby-carriage.  Con- 
sequently, its  outlay  is  so  variegated  that 
it  can  almost  be  said  there  is  no  line  of 
business  it  does  not  patronize. 


Edward  J.  Montagne  and  Harry  Ditt- 
mar  are  collaborating  in  preparing  the  next 
big  Edward  Sedgwick  production,  The  Big 
Gun,  by  Richard  Barry. 

H arry  Pollard  will  direct  Poker  Faces, 
by  Edgar  Franklin,  the  scenario  for  which 
is  being  done  by  Mel  Brown. 

A big  outdoor  feature  which  will  be 
made  in  the  Fall,  with  the  northern  snow 
country  as  the  location,  is  The  Yukon 
Trail,  by  William  McLeod  Raine,  being 
prepared  by  James  Spearing. 

All  rumors  regarding  the  famous  Har- 
riet Beecher  Stowe  novel,  Uncle  Tom’s 
Cabin,  are  set  at  rest  by  the  announcement 
that  A.  P.  Younger  is  now  making  the 
adaptation. 

Curtis  is  putting  a big  circus  story  into 
continuity  form,  The  Trail  of  the  Tiger, 
by  Courtney  Riley  Cooper,  master  of  ani- 
mal and  circus  tales. 

Svend  Gade  has  begun  production  on  a 
new  Jewel,  Wives  for  Rent,  next  week; 
William  A.  Seiter  started  Reginald  Den- 
ny’s new  starring  vehicle,  Skinner's  Dress 
Suit,  on  Monday;  and  Lynn  Reynolds  has 
commenced  The  Rowdy,  House  Peters’ 
next  picture. 


BIG  PROGRAM  FOR  UNIVERSAL 


1925 


©irector 


63 


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SMITH-BARNES  CORPORATION 


64 


THE  W.A.S.P.S 

By  Edith  M.  Ryan 

AMONG  the  active  clubs  in  Holly- 
wood is  the  Women’s  Association, 
Screen  Publicists,  which  was  organ- 
ized about  a year  ago  and  which  meets 
twice  a month.  One  of  the  meetings  is 
an  open  meeting  when  a member  acts  as 
chairman  of  the  entertainment  committee 
and  in  conjunction  with  the  president, 
Carolyn  Wagner,  invites  outside  speakers 
and  distinguished  visitors  in  the  city.  Re- 
cent social  affairs  in  October  included  a 
buffet  supper  given  by  the  girls  in  honor 
of  Agnes  O’Malley,  vice-president  of  the 
club,  who  has  resigned  from  her  post  of 
director  of  publicity  for  the  Mack  Sennett 
studios  to  accept  the  position  of  assistant 
editor  of  Photoplay  magazine  in  New 
\ ork.  Miss  O’Malley  was  further  hon- 
ored, when  the  members  in  appreciation  of 
her  zeal  for  the  club  presented  her  with 
a handsome  traveling  bag,  complete  in 
every  detail.  1 his  affair  was  held  at  the 
home  of  Mrs.  Wagner. 

* * * 

Margaret  Ettinger,  of  the  Metro-Gold- 
wyn-Mayer  Studios,  was  club  hostess  for 
the  second  week  in  October  when,  a bril- 
liant dinner  was  held  at  the  Writers’. 

* * * 

The  leading  event  of  the  Wasp’s  social 
calendar  took  place  October  24,  when  they 
entertained  at  a dinner-dance  at  the  Mont- 
martre in  honor  of  the  film  magazine 
writers. 

* * * 

Carolyn  Wagner  has  accepted  a position 
as  coast  publicity  representative  on  special 
productions  for  the  Davis  Distributing 
Corporation  of  New  York  and  is  now 
busily  engaged  on  an  extensive  publicity 
and  exploitation  campaign  for  The  Red 
Kimona,  Mrs.  Wallace  Reid’s  latest  ve- 
hicle. 


director 
KING  VIDOR 

The  Man  on  the  Cover 

(Continued  from  Page  24-) 

Turn  in  the  Road.  That  night  he  wrote 
out  the  scenario.  This  time  nobody 
laughed,  for  in  The  Turn  of  the  Road 
were  all  the  elements  that  go  to  make  up 
a genuine  feature  production. 

That  was  eight  years  ago.  Determina- 
tion, persistency,  sincerity  and  a keen  hu- 
man understanding  have  enabled  him  to 
force  steadily  to  the  top.  His  Wild 
Oranges,  The  Jack  Knife  Alan,  Peg  O 
Aly  Heart,  His  Hour  and  other  notable 
achievements  have  been  stepping  stones  that 
have  carried  him  steadily  upward  in  a 
career  that  has  been  fittingly  crowned  today 
with  his  magnificent  production  of  The 
Big  Parade. 

And  this  time  when  the  very  Big  Parade 
came  into  sight,  the  camera  did  not  jam, 
and  as  the  World  War  marched  by,  each 
thought,  each  feeling  of  that  great  conflict 
was  captured  and  translated  to  the  screen 
in  a masterpiece  of  motion  picture  directing. 


THE  NIGHT  BRIDE 

(Continued  from  Page  32) 

edition,  I feel  sure  Cynthia  would  like  to 
see.  It  concerns  her  wedding.  Could  you, 
by  any  chance,  see  that  she  gets  it  right 
away?  I’d  like  to  have  her  read  it  before 
the  ceremony.” 

“Why,  certainly,  ma’am,”  said  the  broad 
bosomed  fellow.  ‘‘I’m  sure  Miss  Cynthia 
would  be  glad  to  read  anything  appertain- 
ing to  her  wedding.” 

He  took  the  paper  and  started  up  the 
stairs. 

Clotilde’s  eyes  narrowed,  and  her  heart 
beat  a rapid  tatoo  of  exhultation. 

“Who  knows,”  she  breathed  through 
clenched  teeth.  “Perhaps  the  fight  isn’t  lost 
yet.” 

(to  be  continued) 


November 

Richard  Thomas  Takes 
Over  Berwilla  Studios 

THE  Berwilla  Studios  in  Hollywood 
will,  in  the  future,  be  known  as  the 
Richard  Thomas  Productions 
Studio.  This  move  will  add  another  to 
the  list  of  modern  producing  plants  in 
Southern  California  and  is  another  spike 
in  the  guns  of  the  Eastern  claimants  of 
New  York  and  Florida  as  future  capitals 
of  the  film  world. 

The  capitalists  who  have  invested  in  the 
Richard  Thomas  organization  are  Los  An- 
geles and  San  Francisco  men,  making  it 
the  first  motion  picture  firm  with  an  all- 
California  backing. 

Thomas  himself  has  to  his  credit  27 
pictures  which  he  has  produced  and 
directed.  The  most  recent  ones,  The 
Love  Pirate  and  Phantom  Justice,  were 
distributed  through  F.  B.  O. 

The  present  plans  of  the  company  in- 
clude eight  all-star  feature  dramatic  films 
per  year ; the  first  will  be  a screen  version 
of  William  Dudley  Pellev’s  Saturday 
Evening  Post  story,  What  Women  Love. 
Albert  Shelby  Levino  has  already  com- 
pleted the  adaptation. 

The  Richard  Thomas  Studio,  will  be 
remodelled  at  a cost  of  $100,000,  accord- 
ing to  plans  drawn  up  by  A.  F.  Mantz, 
Hollywood  architect.  The  executive 
building  will  he  covered  with  stucco  and 
raised  to  a height  of  two  full  stories.  Im- 
portant changes  will  also  be  made  in  the 
interior  of  the  studio.  The  new  equip- 
ment will  include  a lumber  mill,  a series 
of  projection  rooms,  a large  wardrobe  de- 
partment and  suite  of  dressing  rooms  for 
the  players  besides  entirely  new  electrical 
equipment.  In  the  intervals  between 
shooting,  Thomas  plans  to  rent  stage  space 
to  other  independent  companies.  The 
studio  will  be  completed  about  the  early 
part  of  December  and  at  that  time 
actual  filming  will  begin  on  What 
W omen  Love,  the  first  Richard  Thomas 
production. 


,.^„r-S1!ATEMENT  OF  OWNERSHIP,  MANAGEMENT,  CIRCULATION,  ETC.,  REQUIRED  BY  THE  ACT  OF  CONGRESS  OF  AUGUST  24.  1912,  OF 
THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR,"  PUBLISHED  MONTHLY  AT  HOLLYWOOD,  CALIFORNIA,  FOR  OCTOBER,  1925. 

State  of  California,  County  of  Los  Angeles,  ss. : 

Before  me,  a Notary  Public  in  and  for  the  State  and  County  aforesaid,  appeared  RICHMOND  WHARTON,  who,  having  been  duly  sworn  according  to  law, 
deposes  and  says  that  he  is  the  BUSINESS  MANAGER  of  THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR  and  that  the  foUowing  is,  to  the  best  of  his  knowledge  and 
i qio  3 ,tru5  st^te,Tlent.  °f  the  ownership,  management,  etc.,  of  the  aforesaid  publication  for  the  date  shown  in  the  above  caption,  required  by  the  Act  of  August  24, 

1912,  embodied  in  Section  443,  Postal  Laws  and  Regulations,  printed  on  the  reverse  of  this  form,  to  wot: 

That  the  names  and  addresses  of  the  publishers,  editor,  managing  editor,  and  business  manager  are:  Publisher,  Director  Publishing  Corporation,  1925  No. 

w ilcox  Ave.,  Hollywood,  Calif. ; Editor,  Geo.  L.  Sargent,  1925  No.  Wilcox  Ave.,  Hollywood,  Calif. ; Managing  Editor,  Bernard  A.  Holway,  1925  No.  Wilcox  Ave., 

Hollywood,  Calif.  ; Business  Manager,  Richmond  Wharton,  1925  No.  Wilcox  Ave.,  Hollywood,  Calif. 

2.  That  the  owner  is  DIRECTOR  PUBLISHING  CORPORATION,  1925  No.  Wilcox  Ave.,  Hollywood,  Calif.  (No  stockholders.) 

3.  I hat  the  known  bondholders,  mortgagees,  and  other  security  holders  owning  or  holding  1 per  cent  or  more  of  total  amount  of  bonds,  mortgages,  or  other 

securities  are:  (If  there  are  none,  so  state).  None. 

4.  That  the  two  paragraphs  next  above,  giving  the  names  of  the  owners,  stockholders,  and  security  holders,  if  any,  contain  not  only  the  list  of  stockholders  and 

security  holders  as  they  appear  upon  the  books  of  the  company  but  also,  in  cases  where  the  stockholder  or  security  holder  appears  upon  the  books  of  the  company  as 

trustee  or  in  any  other  fiduciary  relation,  the  name  of  the  person  or  corporation  for  whom  such  trustee  is  acting,  is  given ; also  that  the  said  twro  paragraphs  contain 
statements  embracing  affiant’s  knowdedge  and  belief  as  to  the  circumstances  and  conditions  under  w'hich  stockholders  and  security  holders  who  do  not  appear  upon  the 
books  of  the  company  as  trustees,  hold  stock  and  securities  in  a capacity  other  than  that  of  a bona  fide  owner;  and  this  affiant  has  no  reason  to  believe  that  any 

other  person,  association,  or  corporation  has  any  interest  direct  or  indirect  in  the  said  stock,  bonds,  or  other  securities  than  as  so  stated  by  him. 

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Sworn  to  and  subscribed  before  me  this  30th  day  of  September,  1925.  RICHMOND  WHARTON,  Business  Manager. 

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(My  commission  expires  April  10,  1928.) 


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‘A  Better  Understanding  Between  Those  Who  See  and  Those  Who  Make  Pictures 


Volume  1 1 
Number  7 


Bernard  A.  Holway 

Managing  Editor 


MOTION  PICTURE 


J.  Stuart  Blackton 

Editor 


CONTENT 

Clarence  Brown  [Design  by  Harold  IF.  Miles J .... 

The  Open  Door  . . 

In  the  Director’s  Chair 

Screen  Personalities 

Norma  Plays  Kiki 

Lucretia  Borgia 

Motherhood  and  the  Screen 

Bride  of  the  Storm 

Drafting  the  Brains  of  Europe  for  the  American  Screen 

The  Man  on  the  Cover 

Capitalizing  Opportunity 

Bill  Beaudine  Says,  “Leave  it  to  Me ! ” . 

The  Motor  Car  Trend  for  1926  

Brewster’s  Millions  a la  Mode 

The  Jewel  Ballet  from  “The  Midnight  Sun” 

Hollywood  Builds  New  Temples  to  Art 
Three  Bad  Men  in  “The  World  of  Promise” 

As  Worrfon  the  Screen 

America’s  Sweetheart,  Yesterday  and  Today 

Follies  Girls  on  the  Screen 

Individuality 

Laura  La  Plante 

A Home  to  be  Enjoyed 

What  is  a Wampas  and  Why? 

Memories  of  Yesteryear 

Angle  Shots  Around  Hollywood  Studios 

What  the  Directors  are  Doing 

Fraternities  of  the  Screen 

Illustrations  and  Headings 


. J.  Stuart  Blackton 


Jay  Brien  Chapman 
Posed  by  Estelle  Taylor 
Irene  Rich 
Fred  Applegate 


Frank  A.  Murray 


. Sally  Long 
Ethel  Painter  Chaffin 


George  Landy 
Bernard  A.  Holway 


February 

1926 


Jay  Brien  Chapman 

Assistant  Editor 


Cover 

2 

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20 
22 

23 

24 

25 
29 
32 
34 
36 

39 

40 
42 
45 

47 

48 
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52 

53 
56 
58 


Charles  H.  Bird 


Wallace  Woodbury 


Published  monthly  by  The  Director  Publishing  Corporation,  1925  N.  Wilcox  Ave.,  Hollywood,  California. 
J.  Stuart  Blackton,  president  and  editor;  William  Beaudine,  vice-president;  Frank  Cooley,  secretary-treasurer; 
Richmond  Wharton,  business  manager;  Tim  Crowley,  professional  advertising,  Blanchard-Nichols-Coleman ; 
general  advertising  representatives,  Los  Angeles,  San  Francisco,  Seattle.  Single  copies  25  cents,  yearly  subscrip- 
tion, $2.50.  Entered  as  second  class  matter,  October  1,  1925,  at  the  postoffice  in  Los  Angeles,  California,  under  the 
Act  of  March  3,  1879. 

PRINTED  IN  U.S.A. 


2 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


From  Those 


Who  See  To  Those  Who  Make  Motion  Pictures 


Editor, 

The  Motion  Picture  Director: 

In  recent  issues  you  have  asked  your 
readers  to  express  themselves  freely  in  re- 
gard to  the  pictures  that  they  see  and  the 
pictures  that  they  would  like  to  see.  You 
have  told  us  in  your  editorials  that,  through 
The  Motion  Picture  Director  maga- 
zine, we  have  an  “open  door”  to  the  pro- 
ducers of  pictures.  Accordingly  I want 
to  register  my  vote  for  the  type  of  film 
that  I really  like  and  enjoy. 

Motion  pictures  to  me  are  not  just  mere 
entertainment  but  virtually  a panacea  for 
all  human  ills.  When  one  is  in  a joyous 
mood  one  goes  joyously  to  a downtown 
theatre  or  to  a neighborhood  house  and 
enjoys  a good  picture.  When  one  is  blue, 
in  the  dumps,  one  goes  to  the  films  to  for- 
get and  to  get  away  from  one’s  self.  At 
all  times  pictures  take  one  out  of  one’s 
self  and  into  a land  of  romance,  and  ad- 
venture. One  the  silver  sheet  we  see  often 
ourselves  in  romantic  roles — as  we  would 
like  to  be,  perhaps. 

Taking  these  things  into  consideration 
I believe  that  I am  speaking  for  many 
others  when  I say  that  the  films  that  are 
most  enjoyable  are  those  that  entertain  and 
amuse,  that  take  one’s  thoughts  from  one- 
self and  one’s  own  problems  and  leave  one 
with  a pleasant  feeling  of  having,  for  the 
time  at  least,  completely  lost  one’s  self  in 
the  entertainer. 

The  intensely  dramatic  picture,  on  the 
other  hand,  not  only  is  depressing  but  be- 
cause of  its  intensity  frequently  proves  an 
emotional  strain  that  is  exceedingly  tiring. 
Personally  I incline  to  the  belief  that  the 
American  people  of  today  more  thoroughly 
enjoy  the  lighter  themes.  Such  pictures  as 
“Best  People”  for  instance  with  its  delici- 
ous satire  are  thoroughly  enjoyable.  One 
relishes  the  satire,  one  enjoys  the  dramatic 
features,  the  suspense  of  the  plot  and  work- 
ing out  of  the  story  to  the  happy  ending 
that  we  Americans  so  insistently  demand. 
It  so  happened  that  on  the  same  evening 
that  I saw  “Best  People”  I also  saw  a 
preview  of  “Dance  Madness.”  I went 


into  the  theatre  tired  and  out  of  sorts,  I 
came  away  refreshed  and  with  the  feeling 
that  I had  had  an  enjoyable  time.  While 
much  more  dramatic  I have  enjoyed  equally 
as  much  “The  Merry  Widow”  and  “The 
Eagle.”  In  neither  instance  was  there  the 
dramatic  intensity  nor  the  emotional  strain 
that  I have  referred  to. 

Just  the  other  evening  I attended  the 
preview  of  what  is  probably  a big  produc- 
tion. It  features  a famous  star  and  a 
strong  cast  of  film  favorites.  It  was  di- 
rected by  a director  who  has  made  a not- 
able name  for  himself  as  the  director  of 
unusually  powerful  pictures.  It  was 
adapted  from  a world-famous  story.  Yet  I 
came  away  worn  out — exhausted.  The 

tenseness  of  the  dramatic  suspense,  the 
vividness  of  the  emotional  scenes  and  the 
unhappy  ending  left  me  depressed  and  re- 
gretting the  evening  spent.  I am  making 
no  quarrel  with  the  unhappy  ending  in 
this  instance.  It  had  to  be  in  order  faith- 
fully to  follow  the  original  story.  To  do 
otherwise  would  be  to  have  created  a pic- 
ture that  had  no  excuse  for  being.  But 
even  without  that  ending  the  story  left  a 
“bad  taste.” 

Undoubtedly  such  a picture  will  appeal 
to  people  who  seem  to  derive  a certain  de- 
gree of  enjoyment  from  morbid  scenes. 
Probably  it  would  be  a tremendous  success 
in  Europe.  But  to  me  it  is  the  antithesis 
of  the  type  of  production  that  American 
audiences  desire  and  really  enjoy. 

The  American  people  are  living  essen- 
tially in  the  present.  We  are  keyed  to  a 
high  pitch  all  the  time  and,  whether  we 
realize  it  or  not,  under  a constant  nervous 
strain, — a feeling  that  we  must  keep  up 
with  the  procession.  Yesterday  has  gone, 
tomorrow  never  comes.  It  is  today  that 
counts.  “Then,  why  mourn  for  about 
what  is  gone  or  worry  about  what  is  to 
come?”  may  be  said  to  be  an  expression  of 
the  national  outlook  on  life.  It  is  in  such 
a spirit  that  we  attend  the  motion  picture 
theatres,  seeking  relaxation,  amusement 
and  relief  from  the  every  day  problems  of 
life.  Give  us  pictures  that  entertain  with- 


out engendering  emotional  exhaustion  and 
you  will  give  us  pictures  that  we,  who 
constitute  the  American  theatre-going  pub- 
lic, thoroughly  enjoy. 

M.  j.  D.,  Los  Angeles. 


Editor, 

The  Motion  Picture  Director: 

I am  very  much  interested  in  the  making 
of  moving  pictures,  especially  after  reading 
about  “Ben  Hur.” 

I think  that  moving  pictures  are  nearly 
as  valuable  as  educational  matter  as  they 
are  for  entertainment.  For  a few  cents 
we  can  see  before  our  eyes  “How  the  other 
side  of  the  world  lives.”  Every  school 
should  use  more  educational  pictures  in  the 
class  room.  I think  they  would  make  more 
impression  on  the  young  mind  than  hours 
of  study.  We  use  them  in  the  Navy  to 
instruct  our  Engineers  in  operation  of  new 
machinery.  For  preserving  historical  events 
they  have  no  equal  and  to  my  rather  in- 
experienced mind  they  should  he  placed 
side  by  side  with  steam  engines,  telephones, 
radio,  automobiles  and  electric  lights  in 
everyday  usefulness. 

I am  very  anxious  to  be  allowed  the 
privilege  of  visiting  some  large  studio  with 
soneone  who  can  explain  the  “inner  work- 
ings.” Some  time  ago  a certain  moving 
picture  company  took  a few  “shots”  aboard 
this  vessel.  They  didn’t  cause  us  one  bit 
of  inconvenience;  in  fact,  they  caused  a lot 
of  enjoyment.  The  director  said  he 
would  show  us  the  finished  product  some 
evening.  The  evening  arrived  and  he  said 
he  was  bringing  a few  of  the  actors  along. 

When  they  came  on  board  there  were 
about  twenty  persons.  The  picture  was 
shown  and  a very  interesting  picture  too, 
featuring  the  life  of  a Navy  man  on  sea 
and  on  shore.  To  us,  who  know  the  Navy 
Man  on  shipboard  it  was  very  true  to  life, 
and  great  credit  is  due  the  director  and 
company  for  their  excellent  acting.  The 
picture  was  full  of  comedy  and  thrills. 
Not  only  did  they  honor  us  with  their 

(Continued  on  Page  68) 


1926 

The  Battle  of 
Bunker  Hill 

BOUT  the  year 
1900,  the  motion 
picture  appeared 
and  in  ten  years  it  began  to 
take  its  place  with  the  kindred 
arts,  Literature  and  the  Drama. 

Today,  literature  and  the 
drama  enjoy  the  same  freedom 
of  expression  that  was  their 
heritage  from  the  War  of  In- 
dependence. 

Today,  the  motion  picture  is 
the  victim  of  a pernicious  and 
growing  class  legislation. 

In  the  year  1909,  the  writer 
produced  a two-reel  historical 
film  portraying  the  life  of  George  Washington. 

Then  an  unbelievable  thing  happened  ! 

Our  Chicago  office  wired  that  the  Chicago  Board  of  Censors, 
headed  by  one  Major  Funkhauser,  refused  to  permit  the  showing 
of  our  Washington  film  unless  we  eliminated  the  Battle  of  Bunker 
Hill  and  the  Siege  of  Yorktown. 

Further  particulars  convinced  us  that  it  was  not  a huge  joke 
as  we  first  suspected.  The  redoubtable  Funkhauser  and  his  mis- 
guided associates  were  in  deadly  earnest. 

When  asked  for  an  explanation,  he  pointed  to  Clause  V in  the 
list  of  scenes  and  action  subject  to  elimination  under  the  local 
censorship  board’s  ruling.  There  it  was,  in  black  and  white: 
“Clause  V.  It  shall  be  a misdemeanor  to  exhibit  in  moving  pic- 
tures on  the  screen  in  any  public  place,  scenes  showing  firearms 
being  used  with  intent  to  kill,  and  such  scenes  shall  be  eliminated 
before  a permit  can  be  issued  for  exhibition.” 

The  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill  and  the  Siege  of  Yorktown  typified 
the  beginning  and  end  of  the  Colony’s  struggle  for  freedom,  but 
the  Colonial  and  British  troops  were  “using  firearms  with  intent 
to  kill,”  and  so  the  stupid  censors,  in  their  doltish  and  destructive 
ignorance,  applied  Clause  V to  the  case  in  hand  without  regard 
to  the  injury  it  worked  upon  those  who  made  the  picture  and 
those  who  wanted  to  see  it. 

As  a matter  of  fact  there  is  no  need  for  censorship  as  it  is 
imposed  on  the  American  screen.  The  sternest  censors  of  motion 
pictures  after  all  are,  first,  the  public  itself,  and  secondly,  the 
exhibitors — the  men  who  show  the  films.  The  big,  high-class 
theatres  will  not  debase  themselves  by  showing  the  type  of  pictures 
that  is  essentially  censorable.  The  neighborhood  theatres  would 
not  dare  to  show  them.  Such  houses  cater  to  a regular  clientele 
which  would  quickly  draw  away  were  pictures  of  a genuinely 
objectionable  nature  to  be  shown. 

If  a picture  is  so  bad  that  it  is  not  fit  to  be  exhibited  anywhere 
there  are  very  plainly  worded  laws  on  the  statutes  of  every  com- 
munity providing  for  just  such  contingencies.  But  as  a whole  the 
petty  censorship  imposed  by  the  self-appointed  censors  of  the 
smaller  communities  accomplishes  nothing  and  is  seriously  dam- 
aging the  picture  that  is  made  for  and  belongs  to  the  American 
public. 

The  very  people  who  are  themselves  most  directly  affected  by 
censorship — the  theatre  patrons  of  the  country — are  the  ones  who 
have  it  in  their  hands  effectively  to  eradicate  a censorship  that 
arbitrarily  imposes  its  will  and  its  whims  on  the  screen  and  per- 
mits literature  and  the  dramatic  stage  complete  freedom  of 
expression. 

Suppose,  for  instance,  that  every  novel  that  is  written  were 
at  the  mercy  of  local  censors,  that  before  the  people  of  a 
community  could  buy  it  or  read  it,  it  had  to  be  reviewed  by 
the  local  censor  boards.  Suppose  that  every  traveling  theatrical 


3 

company  when  arriving  at  a 
new  city  or  town  had  to  change 
the  lines  and  rehearse  the  show 
in  order  to  conform  to  some  no- 
tion of  the  community  censors, 
what  kind  of  a play  would  it 
be?  Certainly  it  would  soon 
cease  to  be  the  author’s  work 
as  originally  conceived  and 
presented. 

Actually  this  censorship  ques- 
tion does  not  affect  the  producer 
of  films  one-half  as  much  as  it 
affects  the  rights  of  the  public 
in  the  kind  of  picture  they  want 
to  see.  And  the  people  have  at 
their  hands  the  most  potent  of 
weapons  to  combat  pernicious 
censorship  in  the  power  of 
public  demand,  a power  that, 
expressed  at  the  box  office,  has 
greater  force  than  all  attempts  at  regulation  exerted  by  individu- 
ally created  censor  boards. 

Let  us  for  a moment  consider  the  film  situation  in  Russia.  In 
a recent  article  in  The  Film  Daily  Ernest  W.  Fredman  explains 
that  in  Russia  the  government  recognizes  what  a force  the  cinema 
plays  in  the  lives  of  their  people.  The  government  controls  films 
by  a state  department  under  the  name  of  Sovkino  that  entirely 
deals  with  the  film  industry.  The  Sovkino  is  a big  renting  organ- 
ization which  has  the  monopoly  in  film  renting  throughout  the 
whole  of  Soviet  Russia  and  to  whom  every  foreign  country  sells 
its  product.  A stranger  to  a Moscow  or  Leningrad  cinema  gets 
the  complete  shock  of  his  life  when  he  sees  an  American  picture. 
If  it  is  a social  drama  and  contains  scenes  of  high  life,  it  is  either 
cut  to  shreds  or  it  is  twisted  about  so  as  to  convey  propaganda 
that  the  rich  are  living  at  the  expense  of  the  poor. 

Native  production  gets  preference  and,  as  almost  every  one  of 
these  films  has  propaganda  of  some  kind,  it  can  be  easily  under- 
stood how  the  Soviet  subtly  weaves  its  ideas  into  the  minds  of  the 
people. 

The  Censor  Board  is  very  strict  in  Russia.  They  view  every- 
thing from  the  revolutionary  point  of  view.  Films  in  which  mon- 
archy is  portrayed  are  utterly  taboo;  kissing  frowned  upon,  and 
all  Biblical  films  have  been  banned. 

Not  much  difference  between  Funkhauser  and  Sovkino,  except 
in  the  spelling. 

One  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  the  war  for  independence  was 
fought  and  won.  Our  forefathers  fought  and  died  for  the  high 
principles  of  Liberty — liberty  of  thought,  liberty  of  speech,  liberty 
of  action,  liberty  of  government  “of  the  people,  for  the  people, 
by  the  people.” 

For  nearly  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  this  country  rejoiced  in 
what  was  recognized  throughout  the  civilized  world  as  the  most 
perfect  form  of  government.  Class  legislation  was  not  permitted 
and  trades,  professions,  societies,  religions  and  the  arts  and  sciences 
were  allowed  full  freedom  of  expression.  If  they  transgressed 
the  laws  and  statutes  based  upon  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States,  means  were  provided  by  law  to  punish  them.  It  was  not 
until  censorship  singled  out  the  motion  picture,  over  fifteen  years 
ago,  that  class  legislation  began  to  be  permitted  and  suffered. 
Motion  picture  censorship  was  the  original  Sovkino.  Censorship 
is  class  legislation  pure  and  simple.  It  prohibits  the  cinema  from 
doing  what  the  press  can  do  with  complete  freedom.  It  denies 
the  motion  picture  the  freedom  enjoyed  by  literature  and  the 
drama.  It  very  definitely  indicates  that  the  police  and  other 
proper  authorities  deemed  competent  to  handle  every  sort  of  crime, 
are  incapable  of  exercising  control  over  motion  pictures. 

Censorship  could  easily  be  considered  as  the  greatest  laugh  of 
the  century  if  it  were  not  working  such  injury  to  the  very  prin- 
ciples for  which  the  patriots  fought  at  the  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill. 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


THE 

DIRECTORS  CHAIR 

J.  Stuart  Blackton 


4 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


Melbourne  Spurr 

Pola  Negri  in  pensive  mood.  She  is  finishing  her  first  pro- 
duction for  Paramount  tinder  the  direction  of  Dimitri 
Buchowetski  to  be  released  under  the  title  “Because  I 
Love  You.” 


19  26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


5 


Melbourne  Spurr 


Alice  Terry  is  again  to  play  the  feminine  lead  in  Paris-made 
productions  for  Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer  and  has  returned  to 
Paris  where  she  will  rejoin  her  director-husband , 
Rex  Ingram. 


6 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


Melbourne  Spurr 


Marion  Davies  in  her  new  production , “ Beverly  of  Grau- 
stark”,  is  introducing  some  spectacular  thrills  that  promise 
genuine  entertainment. 


19  26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


7 


Marie  Prevost,  following  a successful  career  in  featured 
leads  at  fV arner  Brothers,  has  now  been  signed  by  Metro- 
politan and  elevated  to  full  stardom. 


8 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


Hartsook 

Lilyan  Tashman  found  January  a busy  month , appearing  in 
Metropolitan' s production  of  “ IV hispering  Smith ” and  being 
loaned  to  Fox  for  an  important  part  in  “Siberia.” 

19  26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


9 


— 


te-.'  i --  ' ' 

: V •;'<  •=  •.  V 


— 





Harold  Dean  Carsey 


Ronald  Colman  as  Renal  in  the  Norma  Talmadge  produc- 
tion  of  “ Kiki ” is  giving  the  screen  another  of  his  convincing 
portrayals,  particularly  when  cast  in  a French  role. 




■ ' - 


- 


10 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


Norma  Talmadge  is  playing  " Kiki”  as  the  lovable,  fiery  little  bundle  of  impudence  appears  on  the  stage,  a role  so  utterly  at 
variance  with  her  customary  portrayals  as  to  cause  one  to  wonder,  “Is  this  Norma  Talmadge,  or  a totally  different  person 

whom  we  have  never  met  before?” 


1 9 26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


11 


r 1 "A  HE  announcement 
several  months  ago 
X that  Norma  Tal- 
madge  would  make  “Kiki” 
as  her  first  contribution  to 
motion  picture  theatregoers 
for  1926,  caused  a great 
deal  of  speculation  within 
the  motion  picture  indus- 
try. 

While  interest  was  fo- 
cused on  the  question  of 
what  Miss  T a 1 m a d g e 
would  do  with  a role  so 
different  from  those  she 
usually  portrays,  as  that  of- 
fered by  Belasco’s  sensa- 
tional stage  success,  a wider 
significance  attaches  to  the 
making  of  “Kiki”  and  the 
success  or  failure  of  an  in- 
dividual production. 

No  one  can  doubt  the 
ability  of  Miss  Talmadge 
as  an  actress.  If  she  were 
merely  a versatile  charac- 
ter woman,  there  would  be 
no  question  of  her  ability 
to  please  the  public  in  the 
role  of  “Kiki.”  But  she  is 
more  than  a capable  actress. 

She  is  a star  whose  great 
popularity  has  created  two 
distinct  Norma  Talmadges. 

One  of  these  Talmadges 
is  the  actress  herself,  apart 
from  her  reputation.  The 
other  is  the  formidable  Norma  Talmadge 
of  the  public  mind,  who,  as  one  of  the 
screen’s  best-known  and  best-loved  person- 
alities, belongs  not  to  herself  but  to  her 
audience.  It  is  this  second  personage,  and 
not  the  first,  who  may  be  limited  in  her 
capacity  for  versatility;  not  by  her  ability 
but  by  the  conception  of  her  that  dwells 
in  the  minds  of  this  great  audience. 

Her  case  is  not  unique.  Chaplin  might 
excel  his  own  record  of  artistic  achieve- 
ment if  he  were  to  turn  to  tragedy — but 
could  the  Chaplin  who  lives  in  the  public 
mind  be  replaced  by  another,  however  ca- 
pable? Mary  Pickford  is  another  of  sev- 
eral of  today’s  stars  who  are  bound  to  a 
general  type  of  role  by  the  shackles  of 
popularity — and  one  may  ever  go  beyond 
the  beginning  of  motion  pictures  and  con- 
sider the  stage  for  further  examples.  Sarah 
Bernhardt  was  always  the  divine  Sarah  of 
the  public’s  conception,  a great  actress 
whose  genius  deprived  her  of  the  privilege 
of  versatility. 

The  fact  that  the  role  of  “Kiki”  is  so 


great  a departure  from  the  portrayal  of 
the  certain  definite  type  which  has  made 
her  famous,  injects  considerable  suspense 
into  the  present  speculation  in  film  circles 
regarding  the  success  of  her  undertaking. 
The  question  arising  in  their  minds  is,  will 
the  public  accept  Norma  Talmadge  as  com- 
edienne, and  in  the  role  of  a French  gutter- 
snipe? 

The  launching  of  a star  of  such  power- 
ful reputation  into  a character  vehicle  so 
different  from  those  upon  which  she  had 
built  her  fame  is  a courageous  venture, 
and  one  in  which  the  whole  motion  picture 
industry  has  something  at  stake.  Her  suc- 
cess as  “Kiki”  may  be  the  means  of  de- 
stroying certain  musty  traditions  now  ex- 
isting which  have  heretofore  discouraged 
individual  producers  and  artists  from  de- 
parting from  “type.”  A greater  variety  of 
expression,  and  as  a result,  a greater  free- 
dom from  box  office  limitations  may  be 
established. 

Even  if  “Kiki”  should  not  be  received 
with  favor  by  her  public,  Miss  Talmadge 


will  have  achieved  a defi- 
nite accomplishment  as 
well  as  having  succeeded  in 
a courageous  venture.  And 
the  point  proved  will  be 
that  a star  - personality, 
built  through  adherence  to 
a single  general  type  of 
role  until  it  dominates  in- 
dividual ambition,  but  con- 
tinue to  prevail,  so  that  the 
star  of  outstanding  reputa- 
tion cannot  be  allowed  to 
exceed  certain  limits  of 
versatility  without  suffer- 
ing temporary  retrogres- 
sion in  the  public  favor. 

Norma  Talmadge  is 
playing  “Kiki”  as  that  lov- 
able, fiery  little  bundle  of 
impudence  appears  on  the 
stage,  and  the  production 
and  technical  staffs  under 
j Director  Clarence  Brown 
are  giving  the  screen  play 
a background  of  color,  at- 
mosphere and  setting  that 
fully  takes  advantage  of 
the  cinema’s  greater  facili- 
ties in  this  direction. 

Standing,  one  afternoon, 
in  the  heart  of  the  famous 
Montmartre  section  of 
| Paris — or  to  be  more  accu- 

rate, standing  beside  the 
1 cameras  that  were  filming 
a very  fine  reproduction  of 
that  section  as  it  had  been  built  on  the 
United  Studio  lot — the  impression  of  the 
screen’s  vast  resources  came  to  me  with 
unusual  force. 

It  was  a bustling  street  scene,  filled  with 
the  polyglot,  cosmopolitan  crowd  that 
throngs  that  section  of  the  Parisian’s  play- 
ground. The  old  buildings  of  the  Mont- 
martre shouldered  each  other  down  the 
street  and  vanished  around  a corner  in  the 
foreground.  The  narrow  pavements  were 
crowded  with  push  carts,  omnibuses,  bicy- 
cles and  Renaults  of  all  vintages.  On  the 
sidewalks  was  a colorful  mingling  of  various 
foreign  types  and  individuals.  An  artist 
with  a framed  canvas  under  his  arm  hur- 
ried along  close  to  the  wall.  A gendarme 
flirted  with  a saucy  girl  who  was  burdened 
with  various  hat  boxes.  A street  gamin, 
feminine  gender,  offered  papers  to  the  pass- 
ers-by, her  stand  the  vantage  point  of  an 
omnibus  “Stop.” 

I looked  around  for  the  star,  and  in  do- 
ing so,  unconsciously  looked  for  Norma 
Talmadge  as  I had  come  to  know  her  in 


12 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


The  old  buildings  of  the  Montmartre  shouldered  each  other  down 


the  street  and  vanished  around  a 
that  throngs  that  section  of 


previous  productions.  Suddenly  I real- 
ized, with  a shock,  that  my  eye  had  passed 
her  as  casually  as  I have  described,  in  the 
above  scene,  the  character  she  represented 
— that  of  the  little  paper  seller! 

Truly,  Miss  Talmadge  was  playing 
“Kiki”  as  we  know  her  from  the  stage. 
The  stately  Norma  of  “Graustark,”  had 
become  the  true  Parisian  street  gamin,  the 


saucy  model  for  everyone’s  rags,  instead  of 
being  merely  superimposed  upon  the  per- 
sonality of  Miss  Talmadge. 

Ronald  Colman,  in  the  part  of  Victor 
Renal,  has  many  opportunities  particularly 
suited  to  his  ability,  and  Gertrude  Astor, 
who  plays  the  role  of  “Paulette,”  is  an 
admirable  foil  for  the  star  as  well  as  the 
villainness  of  the  piece.  Marc  McDermott 


as  “Baron  Rapp”  is  another  antagonist  in 
the  play,  while  the  more-than-ordinarily 
interesting  servant  role  of  “Adolphe”  rests 
with  the  capable  George  K.  Arthur. 

The  task  of  adapting  the  Belasco  stage 
play  to  fit  the  requirements,  utilize  the  fa- 
cilities of  and  conform  to  the  limitations  of 
the  screen  was  entrusted  to  Hans  Kraly, 
whose  splendid  work  in  adapting  “Her 


1 9 26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


13 


corner  in  the  foreground  . ...  a bustling  street  scene,  filled  with  the  polyglot,  cosmopolitan  crowd 
the  Parisian  s playground. 


Sister  from  Paris”  has  won  him  a high 
place  in  the  scenario  field. 

Judging  by  the  detailed  synopsis  of 
“Kiki”,  Mr.  Kraly  has  done  equally  good 
work  with  the  harder  problems  it  involves. 
Harder  because  of  the  fact  that  in  visual- 
izing the  action  of  the  star,  Kraly  was 
obliged  to  create,  in  his  own  mind  at  least, 
a new  version  of  Norma  Talmadge. 


Those  who  have  been  fortunate  enough 
to  have  seen  the  play  in  New  York  or 
elsewhere  may  have  heard  that  the  Ameri- 
can stage  versions  differed  somewhat  from 
the  French  that  may  have  been  made,  are 
probably  to  spare  the  feelings  of  the  cen- 
sors. The  screen  version  which  must  be 
offered  to  an  audience  so  widely  opinion- 
ated, has  probably  been  slightly  toned 


down  from  the  stage  version  for  the  same 
reason,  but  it  has  not  suffered  in  dramatic 
interest  in  the  process. 

The  screen  play  will  introduce  “Kiki” 
as  the  guttersnipe  of  the  Paris  streets, 
seller  of  papers  in  the  Montmarte.  Dif- 
ficulties with  her  landlady  threatens  her 
with  eviction,  but  instead  of  paying  her 
" (Continued  on  Page  64) 


14 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


Estelle  Taylor 

As  she  will  appear  in 
the  role  of  Lucretia 
Borgia  opposite  John 
Barrymore  in  the 
forthcoming  W arner 

Bros,  production  o f 
Don  Juan".  Cos- 
tume of  green  velvet 
trimmed  with  gold  and 
silver  lace,  diamonds 
and  pearls,  designed  by 
Sophie  IV agner.  Photo 
by  Harold  Dean 
Carsey. 


7 9 26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


15 


Irene  Rich  as  “ Lady  Windemere” 


Motherhood  a7id  the  Screen 


uv  OU  can’t  be  a real  mother  to  your 
| children  and  an  actress  too!”  they 
told  me. 

“They”  were  the  usual  groups  of  friends 
and  relatives  who  surround  anyone  who  is 
going  into  motion  pictures,  or  to  move  to 
another  state,  or  to  choose  a college  or  to 
buy  a hat. 

“It’s  a matter  of  duty  to  the  kiddies,” 
they  continued.  “You  know  what  the 
screen  career  is.  It  isn’t  fair  to  the  children 
to  take  them  into  that  atmosphere,  or  to 
take  their  mother  away  from  them.” 

“On  the  contrary,”  I replied,  “I’m  go- 
ing into  motion  pictures  because  of  the 
children.” 

A gasp ! They  all  looked  at  my  mother 
who,  bless  her  sensible  heart,  was  on  my 
side. 

“I  don’t  know  what  the  screen  career 
is,”  I continued,  “and  if  you’ll  pardon  my 
saying  so,  dear  friends,  neither  do  you. 
But  I have  reason  to  believe  that  as  a 
motion  picture  actress  I can  raise  the 
children  in  a better  atmosphere,  can  give 
them  a better  home,  a better  education  and 
more  of  my  own  care  than  I could  if  I 
were  going  to  become  a stenographer,  a 
bookkeeper,  a — ” 

“But,  my  dear  girl!  Surely  you  know 
that  there  are  such  occupations  as  profes- 


hi/  Irene  Rich 

sional  hostess,  social  secretary  and  others 
in  which  one’s  social  training  may  be  cap- 
italized— ” 

“And  one’s  time  monopolized!”  I re- 
torted. I’m  afraid  I wasn’t  altogether  po- 
lite or  considerate,  but  as  a matter  of  fact 
I was  secretly  agitated.  In  spite  of  careful 
consideration  of  the  problem,  and  arrival 
at  a decision  that  I had  no  intention  of 
changing,  I had  little  disquieting  fears — 
little  jangling  nerves  that  were  easily 
aroused  to  the  “jumpy”  state. 

“I  am  going  into  motion  pictures  as  I 
would  enter  a business  venture,”  I said. 
“I’ll  have  a sinking  fund.  I’ll  be  pre- 
pared to  wait  for  business.  I’ll  invest  in 
ways  and  means  of  attracting  business,  such 
as  advertising  and  publicity.  If  I fail  I 
can  always  try  to  find  some  other  market 
for  my  personality  and  limited  talents.” 

“You’re  going  into  it,  child,  because 
you’re  caught  by  the  lure  of  acting,  just  as 
any  silly  little  girl  with  no  responsibilities 
might  rush  to  Hollywood  and  destruction!” 
The  speaker  was  a friend  old  enough  and 
dear  enough  to  speak  her  thoughts  without 
reserve — and  on  this  occasion  she  spared 
me  nothing. 


“I  plead  guilty  of  feeling  the  lure,  as 
you  call  it,”  I said,  “but  it  isn’t  just  the 
glamor  of  the  thing.  I’ve  always  wanted 
to  try  acting  for  the  screen,  because  of  the 
scope  of  the  medium.  Now  I have  an  added 
incentive  in  the  matter  of  its  financial  ap- 
peal. If  I do  succeed,  I can  do  more  for 
the  children  than  I could  do  in  any  other 
way,  I’m  sure.  So — ” 

Every  time  I hear  of  any  girl  or  woman 
breaking  the  home  ties  and  launching  forth, 
from  some  distant  circle  of  friends  and 
familiar  atmosphere,  into  the  struggle  for 
film  success  in  Hollywood,  I think  of  that 
scene.  No  doubt  it  is  rather  typical,  for 
if  children  do  not  figure  in  the  problem, 
inexperience  in  life  or  any  one  of  many 
obstacles  will  be  held  up  before  the  eyes  of 
the  aspirant  to  career,  and  magnified,  I 
believe,  beyond  a just  proportion. 

I’ll  add  my  voice  to  those  of  the  many 
who  have  said  that  the  screen  career  offers 
no  broad,  easy  highway  of  approach,  no 
flower-strewn  path  of  progress,  no  sinecure 
when  success  arrives.  But  we  cannot  keep 
up  with  the  bandwagon  of  the  times  and 
still  preserve  those  ideas  of  the  not  distant 
past  that  if  possible  girls  should  be  kept 
from  seeking  a career  other  than  that  of 
marriage. 

Duty  to  children?  As  I saw  mine,  it 


16 


THE 


MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


was  to  give  them  the  best  in  the  way  of 
education  and  surroundings  that  I could 
procure  for  them,  plus  home  life  in  their 
tender  years,  and  their  mother’s  own  care, 
love  and  attention.  I was  not  entirely 
confident  of  screen  success,  and  I did  not 
know  for  sure  that  I could,  in  pictures,  do 
what  I hoped  to  do  for  my  two  girls.  But 
I had  thought  it  over  carefully,  and  decided 
to  try. 

I have  never  been  sorry. 

The  girls  are  growing  older.  Now,  hav- 
ing attained  a degree  of  success  in  my 
work,  and  a degree  of  experience  and  in- 
sight into  the  screen  as  a career,  I can 
bring  not  only  the  point  of  view  of  the 
actress  to  bear,  but  also  that  of  the  mother 
whose  girls  will  some  day  seek  careers  of 
their  own,  I know  the  mother’s  fears. 
Knowing,  too,  the  spirit  of  independence 
in  the  kiddies,  I have  decided  not  to  try 
to  raise  them  in  the  way  I was  raised,  but 
to  prepare  them  for  whatever  may  come  in 
this  lively  age  of  ours,  not  only  by  giving 
them  the  best  cultural  advantage  possible, 
but  by  aiding  and  abetting  their  natural 
wish  for  independence. 

They’re  now  in  Switzerland,  adding  fin- 
ishing touches  to  their  preparatory  educa- 
tion, and  learning  for  the  first  time  what  it 
is  to  do  without  their  mother.  I’m  now  in 
Hollywood,  trying  to  learn  to  do  without 
them.  And  deep  down  in  my  heart,  1 
have  a feeling  that  my  lesson  is  the  harder 
to  learn! 

A thing  that  has  impressed  me  during 
my  travels — not  that  portion  of  them 
abroad,  but  in  our  own  dear  homeland — is 
the  fact  that  Hollywood  and  New  York 
no  longer  stand  apart  from  the  rest  of  the 
country.  The  radio,  the  motion  picture, 
the  printed  word,  the  transportation  facili- 
ties have  lit  the  fires  under  the  melting 
pot.  The  city  dweller  and  the  country 
dweller  are  fusing  in  temperament;  the 
small  townsman  and  the  about-town-folk 
of  the  great  cities  are  thinking  alike.  These 
things,  of  course,  apply  with  greatest  force 
to  the  new  generation,  and  that  is  why, 
with  bewildering  rapidity,  some  of  the 
older  generation  are  losing  perspective. 

As  a motion  picture  actress  familiar  with 
the  supposedly  sophisticated  and  ultra- 
modern life  of  Hollywood,  I’m  amazed  to 
find  that  I am  nearly  as  far  behind  the 
generation  to  which  my  children  belong  as 
some  dear  friends  of  mine  are  in  their 
home  in  a country  town  in  the  east.  Emo- 
tionally, I’m  sometimes  at  war  with  the 
new  conditions;  intellectually,  I’m  not,  for 
I perceive  that  these  times  are  wonderful 
ones,  that  our  young  folk  are  wonderful 
young  folk,  and  that  if  there  is  a bit  of 
chaos,  it  is  because  of  the  lack  of  adjust- 
ment. The  children  go  too  far  in  seeking 
independence;  the  parents  put  too  much 
pressure  on  the  reins. 

It  is  because  we  who  have  children, 
though  our  own  childhood  isn’t  so  terribly 
far  distant,  are  far  behind  the  generation 
into  which  our  children  are  growing.  We 


contributed  to  the  bringing  about  of  a 
degree  of  independence  and  equality  with 
men,  of  our  women-folk.  We,  in  fact, 
created  the  environment  that  is  shaping 
the  much-talked-of  new  generation,  and 
we  tend  to  sit  back  and  contemplate  our 
work  with  a bit  of  fear,  simply  because  it 
has  grown  beyond  us. 

It  would  seem  that  we  must  be  edu- 
cated, that  we  must  take  forward  steps, 
that  we  must  strive  to  understand  our  chil- 
dren and  their  problems  rather  than  striv- 
ing to  make  them  understand  our  own, 
unless  we  are  quite,  quite  sure  that  we 
understand  the  problems  which,  far  beyond 
any  control  that  parents  can  exercise,  con- 
front the  new  generation. 

The  fact  that  country  and  city  have 
been  brought  closer  together  by  a process 
of  amalagamation  of  thought  brings  the 
career  of  a film  star  and  that  of  a wife 
and  mother  nearer  to  each  other.  More 
girls  who  sincerely  feel  and  respond  to  the 
urge  for  artistic  expression  through  the 
shadow-stage  medium,  are  going  to  attempt 
the  film  career.  More  women  whose  mar- 
ital barques  have  been  upset  by  death  or 
unhappiness  are  going  to  turn  to  the  screen 
instead  of  to  second  marriages  or  millinery. 

As  happily  married  women  seek  inde- 
pendent careers  (and  that  is  one  of  the 
newest  and  most  rapidly  growing  customs 
of  our  times  that  has  come  to  my  atten- 
tion), more  and  more  of  these  will  turn 
to  motion  pictures  as  well  as  to  other  ar- 
tistic careers.  And  I wish  to  say  here  that 
if  such  women  have  children,  there  is  no 
reason  why  they  cannot  give  those  children 
proper  mother  love,  care  and  personal  at- 
tention while  pursuing  screen  success.  If 
success  does  come,  the  children  inevitably 
will  be  benefited. 

The  picture  actress  does  keep  very  busy, 
when  success  comes  her  way — and  yet  there 
is  plenty  of  time,  ordinarily,  to  keep  in 
touch  with  children  as  a mother  should. 
If  her  own  mother,  the  children’s  grand- 
mother, is  there,  so  much  the  better;  that 
was  an  advantage  I enjoyed. 

The  “atmosphere”  of  Hollywood  as  it 
concerns  the  children  of  professional  folk, 
is  just  as  much  one  of  the  home  as  any, 
except,  perhaps,  for  a little  note  of  artistic 
enthusiasm  that  enters  it  everywhere.  The 
note  of  artistic  enthusiasm  I mention  is 
healthy  rather  than  otherwise.  Bringing 
my  theory  home  again,  for  the  sake  of  il- 
lustration : I do  not  believe  that  my  pro- 
fession, my  study  of  the  screen  art,  or 
friends  from  the  studios  introduced  into 
my  home  socially,  in  any  way  adversely 
affected  the  welfare  of  my  children.  At 
the  same  time,  we  were  kept  alive  men- 
tally by  that  enthusiasm  I have  men- 
tioned, brought  into  our  home  by  those 
contacts. 

There  was  none  of  that,  “Oh,  dear — 
another  dead,  weary  old  day  past — nothing 
to  do  until  tomorrow!”  attitude.  I was 
vitally  and  constantly  interested  in  my 


work,  and  the  children  to  a certain  degree 
shared  my  enthusiasm.  They  were  brought 
up  with  an  attitude  of  interest  toward 
work,  in  general,  that,  I think,  will  go 
along  with  them  into  whatever  careers 
they  may  elect  to  follow. 

Another  important  point  in  connection 
with  their  moulding  in  the  environment  of 
a screen  actress’  home — they  will  never 
invest  the  idea  of  a career  in  pictures,  on 
the  stage,  or  in  any  other  line  of  endeavor, 
with  false  glamour.  To  them  any  sort  of 
art  will  appear  simply  a very  interesting, 
absorbing  kind  of  work. 

They  have  studied  the  screen  with  me, 
and  if  any  phase  of  their  environment  has 
tended  to  make  them  precocious,  it  is  that. 
But  the  development  they  were  given  in 
that  way  is  along  the  lines  of  close,  accu- 
rate observation  and  criticism.  It  was  bal- 
anced by  physical  development  and  outdoor 
sport  of  the  healthiest  sort,  and  I believe 
that  the  result  will  be  faculties  of  quick, 
accurate  judgment;  of  self-criticism  as  well 
as  criticism  of  others,  and  a well-balanced 
healthy  temperament. 

Living  in  the  picture  atmosphere,  we 
probably  saw  no  greater  number  of  pic- 
tures within  any  given  period  of  time,  than 
the  average  family  does.  But  for  my  own 
sake  as  well  as  that  of  the  children,  I was 
careful  to  analyze,  within  their  hearing, 
the  pictures  we  did  see.  Insofar  as  I was 
able,  I separated  for  them  the  true  from 
the  false,  the  real  from  the  actual,  the 
good  from  the  bad. 

“Why  did  so-and-so  do  such-and-such  a 
thing,  mamma?”  was  a question  frequently 
asked. 

There  might  be  a perfectly  logical  rea- 
son I could  explain  to  them.  Or,  if  it  was 
one  of  those  slips  of  the  artist  in  mirroring 
life,  often  to  be  found  in  the  best  of  films, 
I would  blame  it  on  the  person  I thought 
responsible. 

“That,  Jane  dear,”  I’d  say,  “is  the  con- 
tinuity writer’s  idea  of  what  she’d  do.  We 
don’t  think  so,  do  we?  But  you  see,  he 
may  have  been  in  a very  great  hurry  when 
he  wrote  the  scene,  or  he  may  not  have 
been  able  to  imagine  what  the  scene  would 
look  like  when  it  was  complete.” 

Then  we’d  decide  what  “she”  should 
have  done  under  those  circumstances,  in- 
stead of  doing  what  she  did.  We  may  have 
been  right  or  we  may  have  been  wrong. 
But  whichever  it  was,  I was  in  position 
to  give  things  the  sort  of  interpretation,  in 
general,  that  I wished,  in  accordance  with 
my  ideas  of  what  was  good  for  my  little 
ladies. 

I have  tried,  also,  to  give  them  an  im- 
pression similar  to  my  own  of  the  motion 
picture  in  its  general  aspects.  They  have 
a respect  for  the  institution  that  is  similar 
to  my  respect ; I think  they  are  proud  of 
their  mother  for  what  she  has  been  able  to 
accomplish,  proud  of  her  association  with 
the  motion  picture  industry,  and  proud  of 
the  industry  itself.  (Continued  on  Page  64) 


1926 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


17 


The  Irene  Rich  of  Lady  W indemere  s Fan ” and  the  home-loving  Irene  Rich  are  two  very  different  personalities.  Dramatic  art 
of  high  order  created  the  former — and  a delightfully  natural  mood  of  the  latter  is  expressed  by  the  camera  study  above. 


18 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


Februa, 


- wuury 


fy  FRED  APPLEGATE 


VIDOR  may  have  done  the  most 
touching,  Webb  the  most  powerful, 
Von  Stroheim  the  most  artistic,  and 
Niblo  the  most  spectacular  moving  pictures 
of  the  season,  but  J.  Stuart  Blackton  has 
done  the  most  unusual. 

To  the  habitual  picture-goer  sated  with 
“Northwoods  stuff,”  “flapper  stuff,”  “epic 
stuff,”  “costume  stuff,”  and  other  “stuff,” 
his  production  of  “Bride  of  the  Storm”  for 
Warner  Brothers  will  come  like  a cool  sea 
breeze  on  a suffocating  midsummer  night. 
It  is  as  strange  and  intriguing  as  a lost  city. 

“The  Bride  of  the  Storm”  was  cleverly 
adapted  to  the  screen  by  Marian  Constance 
from  “Maryland,  My  Maryland,”  a short 
story  by  James  Francis  Dwyer,  which  at 
the  time  of  its  publication  in  Collier’s 
weekly  attracted  considerable  attention  and 
comment  because  of  the  originality  of  its 
setting  and  the  freshness  of  its  theme.  It 
is  said  to  have  been  inspired  by  the  song 


“Maryland,  My  Maryland”  and  although 
the  entire  story  hinges  as  much  on  the  song 
as  did  Ernst  Lubitsch’s  “Lady  Winder- 
mere’s Fan”  on  the  fan,  it  does  it  in  an 
entirely  novel  and  unexpected  manner. 

Pictures  pivoting  upon  or  inspired  by 
famous  songs  have  of  late  enjoyed  an  aston- 
ishing popularity  and  success.  Two  of 
the  most  noteworthy  of  recent  release 
counted  among  the  top-notchers  of  the  last 
season  are  “Little  Annie  Rooney”  directed 
by  William  Beaudine,  and  “Kiss  Mg 
Again”  directed  by  Ernst  Lubitsch. 

Commodore  Blackton  explains  this  prom- 
inence of  music  as  the  theme  and  inspira- 
tion of  picture  successes  by  the  important 
part  which  music  has  played  and  the  in- 
creasingly important  part  it  is  now  playing 
in  the  affairs  of  the  human  race.  An  art 
which  has  the  human  emotions  as  its  me- 
dium could  hardly  ignore  the  most  elemen- 
tal, universal,  and  emotional  of  all  the  arts, 


Tyrone  Power 
as  Jacob  Kroom 


music.  It  could  not  represent  life  without 
representing  the  profound  effect  of  music 
on  it. 

As  usual  Blackton  has  assembled  a well- 
balanced  cast  of  extraordinary  strength. 
Many  years  ago  he  began  and  sponsored 


1 9 26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


19 


the  film  career  of  the  greatest  star  of  his 
day,  Maurice  Costello.  In  “Bride  of  the 
Storm”  he  had  the  pleasure  and  satisfaction 
of  helping  launch  the  promising  career  of 
that  favorite’s  remarkable  daughter,  Do- 
lores Costello.  Her  rare  type  of  wistful, 
spiritual  beauty  was  ideally  suited  to  the 
characterization  of  Faith  Fitzhugh,  the 
little  Maryland  girl,  who  shipwrecked  off 


Pag  lighthouse  in  the  Dutch  West  Indies, 
becomes  the  slavey  of  the  three  keepers. 
In  a short  glimpse  of  her  father’s  mansion 
in  Baltimore  at  the  beginning  of  the  pic- 
ture, and  in  the  shipwreck  and  rescue  by 
the  keepers,  Julia  Swayne  Gordon  is  seen 
as  Faith’s  mother. 

Tyrone  Power  as  Jacob  Kroom,  the 
hook-handed  grandfather  in  charge  of  the 
light,  Sheldon  Lewis  as  Piet,  his  crooked- 
backed  monster  of  a son,  and  Otto  Mat- 
tieson  as  Hans,  his  idiot  grandson,  form  a 
particular  sinister  and  repellant  trio. 
Aware  of  Faith’s  identity  and  comprehend- 
ing that  she  comes  from  people  of  means 
they  keep  her  so  that  they  may  marry  her 
to  Hans  and  come  into  possession  of  her 
property. 

Faith  arrives  at  womanhood  ignorant  of 
all  but  the  bleak  cramped  world  of  the 
lonely  light  house  isolated  on  tiny,  rocky 
Pag  island,  the  memories  of  her  earlier, 
happy  life  almost  blotted  out  by  the  drud- 
gery, hardship,  and  loneliness  of  her  exist- 
ence under  the  brutality  and  ignorance  of 
her  masters.  Old  Jacob  regards  her  as  a 


heaven-sent  bride  brought  by  the  storm  for 
his  grandson,  whom  he  knows  no  woman 
would  willingly  have  and  this  thought  of 
marriage  with  Hans  is  a constant  horror  to 
her. 

Then  one  day  from  the  balcony  of  the 
lighthouse  she  sees  a destroyer  anchored  a 
short  way  off  and  the  sight  of  the  American 
flag  at  its  peak  stirs  old  memories.  Some- 
thing wells  up  in  her  throat  and  she  sings 
— “Maryland,”  the  words  meaningless  to 
her  and  garbled  with  Dutch  which  has 
replaced  what  little  she  knew  of  her  native 
tongue.  Dick  Wayne,  a young  lieutenant 
played  by  John  Harron  catches  a snatch  of 
the  song  as  he  is  coming  up  on  the  other 
side  of  the  lighthouse  and  this  and  the 
hostile  reticense  of  the  Krooms,  who  deny 
the  presence  of  a woman  piques  his  curios- 
ity so  that  he  returns  another  time  to  find 
Faith  alone  on  the  beach. 

As  he  maneuvered  for  a landing  in  a 
small  rowboat,  a breaker  neatly  capsized  it 
and  drenched  him.  Scrambling  ashore  to 
where  Faith  has  been  watching  the  accident 
(Continued  on  Page  65) 


Dolores  Costello  and  Johnny  Harron,  the  lovers,  about  whom  the  maelstrom  of  a gripping, 
dramatic  plot  whirls,  with  malevolent  intensity 


20 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


/'  ebruary 


VICTOR  SEASTROM 


DRAFTING 
OF  EUROPE 
AMERICAN 


SVEND  GADE 


THE  vast,  world-conquering  popularity  of  American 
screen  production  has  resulted  in  the  drafting  of  the  best 
directorial  brains  of  Europe  into  the  work  of  film  pro- 
duction in  Hollywood. 

Of  the  group  pictured  above,  the  majority  have  come  from 
Europe  after  outstanding  achievement  in  the  film  industry 
there  had  attracted  the  attention  of  American  producers.  Eric 
Von  Stroheim  is  the  only  real  exception  to  this  rule  among 
those  listed  here;  while  he  studied  the  stage  and  was  an  actor 
in  Europe,  he  worked  in  pictures  in  Hollywood  as  an  extra,  a 
character  player  and  a star  before  becoming  a director. 

Inevitably,  one  tends  to  put  the  foreign  directors  into  one 
group  classification,  and  American  directors  into  another,  and 
to  say  that  the  work  of  the  former  differs  from  that  of  the 
latter.  Actually,  the  director  whose  natural  dramatic  methods 
most  resemble  those  of  Ernst  Lubitsch,  for  instance,  is  not  one 
of  the  other  foreigners,  but  an  American.  The  same  might  be 
said  of  Svend  Gade,  as  we  know  him  by  his  work  to  date ; 
while  Benjamin  Christianson  groups  with  the  foreigners  only 
by  race. 


BENJAMIN  CHRISTIANSON 


Freulich 


ERIC  VON  STROHEIM 


The  closest  bond  that  exists  between  any  of  the  foreign  di- 
rectors occurs  in  the  case  of  Victor  Seastrom  and  Mauritz 
Stiller.  The  latter  was  a pioneer  European  director,  and 
Seastrom  was  an  actor  in  Stiller’s  pictures.  Seastrom,  how- 


1 926 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


21 


ERNST  LUBITSCH 


Freulich 


MAURITZ  STILLER 


ever,  first  attracted  the  attention  of  the  American  producers, 
while  Stiller  is  one  of  the  most  recent  importations.  In  the 
case  of  Dimitri  Buchowetzki,  the  Russian’s  work  is  as  distinct 
from  that  of  his  foreign  colleagues  as  it  is  from  that  of  the 
indigenous  directors. 

Buchowetzki  directed  “Sapho,”  "Danton,”  “Othello”  and 
other  notable  pictures  abroad,  and  his  most  recent  American 
films  are  “Graustark”  and  “The  Midnight  Sun.”  Christian- 
son produced  “Blind  Justice,”  “The  Witch”  and  other  films 
for  Ufa,  and  has  just  done  “Devilkin”  here.  Stiller  is  such  a 
recent  arrival  that  his  first  production  in  Hollywood  is  only 
now  under  way,  but  great  things  are  expected  of  him  since  his 
foreign  production,  “The  Atonement  of  Goesta  Berling.” 

Seastrom  attracted  attention  here  principally  through  his 
European  production,  “Give  Us  This  Day.”  His  most  notable 
productions  here  are  “The  Tower  of  Lies”  and  “He  Who 
Gets  Slapped.”  Ernst  Lubitsch  made  that  remarkable  Ger- 
man film,  “Passion,”  and  in  America  has  made  “The  Marriage 
Circle”  and  many  other  notable  contributions.  Svend  Gade 
scored  a particular  success  with  “Hamlet”  abroad,  and  has  to 
his  credit  in  America,  “Peacock  Feathers”  and  “Watch  Your 
Wife.”  Von  Stroheim’s  great  success  with  “Foolish  Wives” 
definitely  placed  him  upon  the  cinema  map,  preparing  the  way 
for  such  accomplishments  as  “Greed”  and  “The  Merry 
Widow.” 


Richee 


DIMITRI  BUCHOWETZKI 


?? 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE 


DIRECTOR 


February 


Clarence  brown,  the  man,  is 

an  infinitely  more  interesting  sub- 
ject for  editorial  comment  than 
Clarence  Brown,  the  director.  Naturally, 
it  is  the  man  who  actuates  and  motivates 
the  director.  But  to  know  the  man  aside 
from  the  director  is  to  plumb  the  depths  of 
his  sincerity.  Let  it  suffice  to  say  that 
the  Brown  of  this  dawning  epoch  of  hey- 
days is  the  same  man  of  yesteryear’s  tur- 
bulent era.  Today  he  would  not  say  any- 
thing, nor  do  anything,  that  he  would  not 
have  done  yesterday.  He  is  entirely  free 
from  the  sudden  snobbishness  and  false 
flourishes  that  have  hurtled  many  other 
promising  and  delightful  people  of  leaner 
days  into  a personification  of  the  inane. 

When  Clarence  Brown  says  something 
to  you,  you  know  that  he  means  it.  He 
doesn’t  “beat  around  the  bush.”  He  doesn’t 
“talk  to  the  gallery.”  If  he  has  any  serious 
shortcomings  as  either  man  or  director  they 
have  not  made  themselves  apparent.  He  is 
the  kind  of  a man  that  you  can  pin  your 
faith  on.  He  would  never  violate  a trust. 
Those  kind  of  men  make  good  directors. 
Brown  is  one  of  the  best  in  the  business. 

The  physical  make-up  of  Brown  is  in- 
dicative of  a thinker  and  a doer.  Of  sturdy 


build,  about  five  feet  ten  inches  in  height 
. . . black  hair  fringed  with  gray  . . . 
a penetrating  gaze;  the  gaze  of  a keen 
analyst  and  a sound  intellectualist  . . . 
a quizzical  smile,  at  times  fading  into  a 
vague  reverie  . . . subduing  outward 

emotions  . . . not  inclined  much  to  speech 
except  at  times  when  enthusiasm  moves 
him  to  ardent  discussion  . . . never  in- 
dulging in  idle  gossip  . . . and  of  a tem- 
perate nature  that  is  one  of  the  rarities  of 
Hollywood  (he  neither  drinks  nor  smokes) 

. ...  he  exudes  a firm  resolve  and  radi- 
ates a dominating  personality. 

Clarence  Brown  was  born  at  Clinton, 
Mass.,  on  May  10,  1890.  At  the  age  of 
fifteen  he  graduated  from  high  school 
there.  Four  years  later  he  was  graduated 
from  the  University  of  Tennessee  with 
two  degrees  . . . those  of  Bachelor  of 
Science  in  Mechanical  Engineering  and 
Bachelor  of  Science  in  Electrical  Engineer- 
ing. For  about  six  years  he  directed  his 
knowledge  and  abilities  in  the  realm  of  au- 
tomotive engineering  in  a worthy  capacity 
with  the  Stevens-Duryea  Motor  Co.  Un- 
wittingly he  was  fitting  himself  for  his  fu- 
ture work  as  a film  director.  For  it  is 
the  sense  of  mechanical  motivation  of  dra- 


‘y'/ie 

an  on 
Cover 


ma,  drama  that  however  does  not  lose  its 
emotional  power,  that  sets  Brown  apart  as 
distinctive  in  the  field  of  directors. 

For  six  years  after  his  entry  into  motion 
pictures  in  June,  1915,  Brown  was  assis- 
tant with  Maurice  Tourneur.  From  the 
start  he  exhibited  his  capacity  to  forge 
ahead  in  the  young  industry.  He  readily 
grasped  the  somewhat  intricate  engineering 
of  photoplay  production.  Brown,  however, 
thought  in  terms  of  human  thought,  rather 
than  from  the  standpoint  of  what  consti- 
tuted “good  drama”  from  the  viewpoint 
of  director  and  cameramen.  He  later  evi- 
denced this  in  violating  many  of  the  moth- 
eaten  bugaboos  about  camera  angles,  se- 
quence of  events,  in  brief,  the  construction 
of  a motion  picture  to  him  was  good  as 
long  as  it  abided  by  the  natural  trend  of 
progression,  and  not  by  the  box-office  idea 
of  scene  assembly. 

The  most  noteworthy  of  his  productions 
are  “The  Great  Redeemer”,  “The  Acquit- 
tal”, “The  Signal  Tower”,  “Butterfly”, 
“Smouldering  Fires”,  “The  Goose 
Woman”  and  “The  Eagle”,  in  the  order 
of  their  making.  It  was  the  initiation  of 
a new  order  of  consistently  fine  photoplays 
that  established  him.  Probably  “The  Sig- 
nal Tower”,  more  than  any  other,  served 
to  bring  his  name  to  the  public  foreground. 
Each  succeeding  Brown  picture  has  been 
consistently  better,  regardless  of  theme  or 
size.  It  is  generally  conceded  that  “Kiki”, 
the  Norma  Talmadge  vehicle  which  Brown 
is  now  producing,  will  be  the  greatest  tri- 
umph of  both  Brown  and  Talmadeg. 

At  the  present  time  he  is  under  contract 
to  Joseph  M.  Schenck  to  make  pictures  for 
United  Artists  Corporation.  Brown  was 
maneuvered  from  Lfiiiversal  by  Schenck 
immediately  after  the  completion  of  “The 
Goose  Woman”,  which  proved  to  be  one 
of  the  biggest  hits  of  1925  and  brought 
Louise  Dresser  to  stellar  fame  on  the 
screen. 

One  thing  about  Brown  that  is  of  inter- 
est to  the  layman — and  also  to  the  man 
(Continued  on  Page  62) 


19  26 


THE  MOTION 


PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


23 


ltalizm 


y?n  OJTJcreen 
Ursonah'iy  Storu 


THERE  comes  a time  in  the  career 
of  every  man  when  he  pauses  to 
take  stock  of  himself,  and  deliber- 
ately seeks  his  proper  niche  in  the  scheme 
of  life.  And  so  it  happened  that  a young 
man  stopped  to  take  account  of  his  assets 
before  embarking  upon  his  career.  Behind 
him  lay  college,  athletic  achievement,  travel 
and  a good  deal  of  money  variously  spent. 
Before  him  lay  the  world  and  the  problem 
of  how  to  attack  it  most  advantageously. 

Assets:  Health  and  optimism.  Cultural 
polish  imparted  by  Stanford,  Yale,  Oxford 
and  Heidelburg  Universities,  and  student 
life  abroad.  Discipline  from  experience  in 
the  navy  during  the  World  War.  Friends 
and  connections  in  the  show  business.  Cap- 
ital, none  to  speak  of  except  in  the  form 
of  those  other  assets. 

The  young  man  was  John  W.  Consi- 
dine,  Jr.,  son  of  the  John  Considine  known 
to  fame  in  the  theatrical  profession  as  part 
ner  in  the  enterprises  of  Sullivan  and  Con- 
sidine. Like  many  young  men,  he  had  not 
thought  seriously  of  the  profession  he 
would  eventually  enter  until  this  particu- 
lar time.  His  college  studies,  beginning 
with  medicine,  had  been  broad  and  general 
in  their  later  developments,  and  they  gave 
him  no  particular  index  to  the  choice  of  a 
career. 

There  came  back  to  Considine’s  memory 
a conversation  he  had  had  with  a room- 
mate at  Yale.  He  had  said,  in  effect: 
“Buddy,  if  ever  I need  to  go  to  work 
I’m  going  to  pick  out  some  big  man  I like, 
engaged  in  a line  of  work  I’m  interested 
in,  and  get  a job  with  him  with  the  inten- 
tion of  ultimately  becoming  his  secretary.” 
“Ultimately  becoming  his  secretary ?" 
the  room-mate  had  said  with  justifiable 
surprise. 

“Yes.  That’s  one  of  the  best  short  cuts 
to  mastery  of  big  business.  It  happens  that 
I know,  because  I’ve  made  an  intimate 
study  of  my  father’s  secretary,  who  was  a 
master  of  the  secretary’s  art.  By  studying 
him,  too,  I’ve  learned  part  of  his  tricks — 
and  in  my  opinion,  the  secretary  to  a big, 
active  figure  in  any  line  of  business  is  in 
position  to  get  into  the  executive  end  of 
that  business  quicker  than  he  could  arrive 


JOHN  W.  CONSIDINE,  JR. 


by  any  other  means.  First  he  makes  him- 
self indispensable — ” 

And  so  on.  As  Considine  had  said,  he 
had  made  a study  of  the  secretary  business, 
not  with  any  thought  of  becoming  a secre- 
tary at  that  time,  but  simply  because  he 
admired  high  proficiency  in  any  capacity, 
and  considered  his  father’s  secretary  ex- 
traordinarily proficient. 

“What’s  the  future  of  such  a position?” 
he  had  asked  himself,  and  instantly  found 
the  answer  in  the  fact  that  aside  from  his 
father,  no  one  knew  so  much  about  his 
father’s  business  as  that  secretary  did.  Fu- 
ture? All  that  individual  ability  and  the 
possibilities  of  the  particular  line  of  busi- 
ness in  question  could  offer. 

It  was  precisely  at  this  point  in  his  intro- 
spection that  Joseph  M.  Schenck  entered 
his  career  as  a vital  factor.  Through  his 
father’s  association  with  the  Loew  enter- 
prises and  consequently  with  Mr.  Schenck, 
he  knew  that  dominant  leader,  and  ad- 
mired him  immensely.  The  business  in 
which  Mr.  Schenck’s  interests  were  cen- 
tering, motion  pictures,  also  intrigued  the 
interest  of  young  Considine. 

He  promptly  approached  Mr.  Schenck 


for  a position.  He  was  in  New  York,  and 
the  date  was  November,  1921. 

“Meet  me  in  Los  Angeles,”  said  the 
producer,  “and  I’ll  give  you  a chance.” 

At  the  appointed  time  and  place,  Con- 
sidine reported  for  duty — any  sort  of  duty 
there  was  to  offer. 

“You’ll  be  the  assistant  of  Sidney  Frank- 
lin’s assistant  director,”  Schenck  told  him. 
“Now,  before  I turn  you  over  to  him, 
here’s  one  vitally  important  piece  of  ad- 
vice. Forget  that  you’re  anyone  but  an 
energetic  young  man  trying  to  get  along. 
Forget  that  you’re  the  product  of  several 
colleges.  You’re  in  a business  now  where 
your  personal  ability  will  carry  you  as  far 
as  you  make  it,  and  nothing  else  will  help 
you ; in  fact,  anything  else  is  liable  to  han- 
dicap you.  Go  ahead  and  make  good !” 
Considine  found  that  his  new  position 
was,  in  fact,  that  of  third  assistant  direc- 
tor. The  picture  was  “The  Primitive 
Lover,”  starring  Constance  Talmadge. 
Following  the  advice  of  Mr.  Schenck 
faithfully,  and  pouring  all  his  energy  into 
the  new  task,  he  succeeded  in  pleasing  Mr. 
Franklin  with  his  work.  Winning  the 
(Continued  on  Page  67) 


24 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


Montagu  Love,  Dor- 
othy Devore  and  John 
Patrick  in  the  Warner 
Bros.  Classic,  Leave  It 
to  Me,  directed  by 
William  Beaudine. 


(Bill Beaudine  says 


OVER  at  Warner  Bros,  a neat  little 
“job”  in  the  matter  of  a crook 
movie  has  been  “pulled  off”  by 
William  Beaudine.  Phil  Klein  and  E.  T. 
Lowe  hatched  the  plot  by  adapting  Darryl 
Francis  Zanuck’s  story,  whereupon  “Beau” 
assembled  such  notorious  characters  as 
John  Mescall,  Gene  Anderson,  George 
Webster,  “Briny”  Foy,  and  Bert  Shipman 
to  aid  and  abet  him  in  filming,  with  Dor- 
othy Devore,  John  Patrick,  Montagu 
Love,  George  Pearce,  Lynn  Cowan,  Rus- 
sell Simpson,  James  Gordon,  Frank 
Brownlee,  Fred  Kelsey,  Charles  Hill 
Mailes,  and  others,  Warner  Bros,  produc- 
tion of  “Leave  It  To  Me.” 

The  conventional  “crook  picture”  deals 
with  gobs  and  gobs  of  underworld  people 
in  the  big  city,  virtuous  lady  crooks  who 
reform,  big-hearted  gent  crooks  who  do  the 
same,  faithful  “dopes”  who  get  “clunked” 
in  the  last  reel  to  everybody’s  sorrow  after 
saving  something  or  somebody,  etc. 

There  isn’t  a big  city,  a “dope,”  a crook, 
male  or  female,  who  reforms,  a mean,  nasty 
detective,  a pair  of  handcuffs,  a den,  a 
poolroom,  a “fence,”  or  a secret  passageway 
in  “Leave  It  To  Me.”  Nobody  gets  pois- 


oned, or  shot,  or  stabbed,  or  what  is 
worse — converted. 

Ninety-five  percent  of  the  picture  was 
taken  on  location  in  woodsy  places  or  little 
towns.  It  is  a picture  of  the  great  outdoors 
“where  men  are  men,”  yet  it  is  a crook 
picture.  As  a rule  the  heroine  and  hero 
are  promising  young  crooks  doing  a flour- 
ishing trade  in  crime — not  really  bad  crime 
— quite  chivalrous  and  respectable  in  fact. 
When  they  meet,  their  consciences  smite 
them  both  simultaneously  and  they  begin 
to  long  to  set  each  other  on  the  straight 
and  narrow  way. 

In  “Leave  It  To  Me”  the  procedure  is 
reversed.  The  young  gentleman  (of  the 
press,  by  the  way),  and  the  young  lady 
start  out  perfectly  respectable.  Circum- 
stance intervenes  and  brings  them  together 
— to  impress  each  other  with  their  wicked- 
ness and  their  bold,  bad  exploits. 

Up  to  the  very  denouement  of  one  of 
the  most  delightfully  interesting  tangles 
seen  upon  the  screen  in  years,  they  have 
each  other  convinced  of  their  sinfulness. 
These  of  course  are  John  and  Dorothy. 
But  there  are  a couple  of  honest-to- 


goodness  crooks,  consistently  crooked  and 
proud  of  it,  who  serve  to  liven  things  up 
considerably.  The  big  master-brain  who 
is  responsible  from  the  first  for  so  much 
humorous  activity,  Dr.  R.  Rappaport  Run- 
yon, alias  Ducket  Nelson,  is  splendidly 
charactrized  by  Montagu  Love.  Frank 
Brownlee  makes  an  admirable  convict, 
better  than  would  ninety-eight  per  cent  of 
those  now  enjoying  the  hospitality  of  our 
penal  institutions. 

“Leave  It  To  Me”  is  a light,  swiftly 
moving  comedy-drama  wonderfully  well 
suited  to  the  talents  not  only  of  Miss  De- 
vore and  Mr.  Beaudine,  a working  team 
of  long  standing,  but  to  those  of  John 
Patrick.  For  Patrick  it  is  the  chance  for 
which  every  picture  actor  and  actress  hopes 
and  prays.  His  star  as  a comedian  has 
been  hanging  brightly  well  above  the  hori- 
zon, giving  great  promise,  but  from  “Leave 
It  To  Me”  on  just  leave  it  to  John.  His 
star  is  scheduled  by  this  particular  astrono- 
mer to  rise  higher  and  shine  brighter  at  an 
increasingly  steady  rate. 


1 9 26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


25 


^ Motor  Car  Trend .£r  1926 


ANOTHER  great  national  preview 
has  come  to  a close,  and  has  been 
1-  followed  closely  by  many  local 
premiers  and  debuts. 

This  screen  parlance  refers  to  automo- 
biles, and  with  good  reason : probably  no 
other  industry,  trade  or  profession  uses 
more  high-class  passenger  automobiles  than 
the  motion  picture  industry  and  its  workers. 

Cars  are  a vital  necessity  to  stars,  di- 
rectors and  members  of  technical  and  pro- 
ducing staffs.  For  the  army  of  extras  and 
other  itinerant  workers  in  films  the  auto- 
mobile is  no  less  necessary  as  a means  of 
speedy  transportation  from  studio  to  studio, 
and  aside  from  the  use  of  commercial  cars 
and  trucks,  an  unusual  number  of  good 
automobiles  are  to  be  found  in  studio  trans- 
portation departments.  These  cars  are  used 
in  pictures  and  for  emergency  transporta- 
tion of  all  sorts.  Truly,  the  motor  car 
has  an  important  place  in  film  production. 

Every  January,  in  the  Grand  Central 
Palace,  New  York  City,  leading  motor  car 
manufacturers  collaborate  in  a comprehen- 
sive exposition  of  the  latest  developments  in 


6y  CHARLES  H.BIRD 

opment  and  improvement  of  personal  trans- 
portation. 

And  just  at  this  time  of  year  investi- 
gations into  probable  trends  are  seriously 
hampered  by  the  amusing  “veil  of  secrecy” 
in  which  over-anxious  motor  car  men  at- 
temp  to  swathe  their  business. 

But  information  as  vital  as  the  news  of 
automotive  doings,  has  a way  of  circulating, 
and  so  it  may  be  authoritatively  stated 
that  the  outstanding  trend  of  passenger 
transportation  for  1926  presents  a very  defi- 
nite advance  toward  a paradoxical  combi- 
nation,— that  of  speed  and  safety. 

Cars  of  1926  are  built  to  travel  faster,  to 
afford  even  greater  comfort  to  passengers, 
and  at  the  same  time,  to  be  controlled  with 
greater  ease. 

Another  encouraging  trend  is  the  rap- 
idly spreading  custom  among  leading  motor 
car  builders  of  abandoning  yearly  models. 
That,  more  than  anything  else,  has  estab- 
lished owner  confidence.  Today,  the  auto- 
mobile owner,  who  selects  a new  car  from 
the  line  of  any  of  the  fifty  dependable  man- 
ufacturers can  rest  assured  that  the  style 


and  value  of  his  chosen  vehicle  is  not  going 
to  be  almost  totally  wrecked  by  the  sud- 
den advent  of  an  entirely  new  model, 
sprung  on  an  unsuspecting  public  within 
six  months  of  his  original  purchase. 

Standardization  in  basic  principles  of  de- 
sign and  construction  has  come  to  stay  for 
two  excellent  reasons.  First,  owner  con- 
fidence, that  most  vital  asset,  must  be  main- 
tained, and  second,  “Old  Man  Overhead”, 
the  ever  present  enemy  of  the  manufact- 
urer must  be  kept  down,  and  radical 
changes  of  design  send  manufacturing  costs 
skyrocketing,  to  the  ultimate  ruin  of  those 
who  persist  in  attempting  to  snatch  success 
through  sensationalism,  rather  than  achiev- 
ing it  by  means  of  the  slower,  surer  process 
of  sound  merchandising  of  dependable 
products. 

Significant  proof  of  the  actual  time  and 
space  blanking  spirit  of  this  present  era  of 
rapid  transit,  is  seen  in  the  fact  that,  simul- 
taneously with  the  opening  of  the  New 
York  Show,  new  model  cars,  identical  with 
those  displayed  “for  the  first  time”  in  the 
Grand  Central  Palace,  began  to  appear  on 
the  Pacific  Coast,  notably,  in  the  fine  salons 
of  the  Hollywood  and  Los  Angeles  motor 
car  distributors  and  dealers. 

And  with  them  came  several  surprise  an- 
nouncements of  great  eastern  mergers,  all 
tending  toward  the  inevitable  plan  o f 
further  standardization. 

The  Stutz  vertical  eight,  one  of  the  most 
striking  developments  of  the  new  year,  is 
introduced  here  under  the  sponsorship  of 
Lynn  C.  Buxton,  who  for  years  has  stuck 
to  the  Stearns-Knight  line.  But  Willys- 
Overland  Inc.  of  Toledo  announced  the 
purchase  of  the  Stearns  factory.  This 
brings  the  manufacture  of  all  cars  with  the 
sleeve-valve  engine  under  one  head,  al- 
though the  various  plants  are  to  be  operated 
as  separate  units. 

The  new  Stutz  is  replete  with  unique 


automotive  design.  That  is  the  national 
automobile  preview. 

Naturally,  a good  two-thirds  of  the 
population  of  United  States  are  on  the  qui 
vive  to  know  what  the  outcome  will  be, 
what  new  departures  will  be  introduced 
in  various  makes  of  cars,  for  they  all  have 
cars  at  home,  the  style  and  value  of  which 
are  going  to  be  more  or  less  affected. 

The  great  question  of  the  day  on  the 
street,  among  motor  car  owners,  is  “What’s 
the  Trend”? 

That  word  trend  is  a term  somewhat 
difficult  to  interpret  in  the  face  of  the  kalei- 
doscopic progress  being  made  in  the  devel- 


General  Motors’  new  low  priced  creation  is  the  Pontiac  Six,  featuring  this  Coupe  and  a Coach 
distributed  as  companion  cars  to  the  Oakland  line. 


26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


The  fastest  selling  model  of  the  Buick  line,  with  latest  refinements, 
is  this  new  Four-Door  Sedan. 


The  handy  “One-Shot  Lubrication”  has  been  added  as  one  of  many  im- 
provements in  this  new  Twentieth  Century  Six-Cylinder  Sedan  by  Chandler. 


Introducing  aAuto 


A new  Big  Six,  the  “Imperial  80,”  is  presented  by  Chrysler,  with  a 92  H.P. 
motor  and  speed  ability  up  to  80  miles  per  hour. 


With  rich  appointments  and  an  improved  design  of  their  famous  speedway 
motor,  Locomobile  offers  this  new  Coupe  and  a Brougham 
in  the  Junior  Eight. 


High-class  conveyance  at  mass  price  is  the  aim  of  Oldsmobile  in  offering  this 
new  Utility  Coupe  and  a Coach  of  similar  line  and  appointment. 


Capt.  E.  V.  Rick- 
enbacker  declares 
his  new  line  of 
straight  eights  are 
the  fastest  cars  in 
America,  the 
Coupe  Sedan  with 
two  carburetors 
and  a 100  H.P. 
motor  is  shown 
here. 


The  smallest  sleeve-valve  engine  ever  built  in  America,  powers 
the  new  Willys-Knight  Six  Seventy,  built 
to  sell  under  $1800. 


19  26 


THE  MOTION 


PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


27 


Debs”  of  1926 


This  is  a special  Sport  Phaeton  customed  by  Don  Lee  on  the  new  “Ninety 
Degree  Cadillac  Eight  Chassis,”  with  tonneau  cowl 
and  European  deflectors. 


Spirit  of  Youth  is  typified  in  the  “Gray  Goose  Traveler”  Sport  Phaeton  of 
new  Wills  St.  Claire  group,  which  includes  a new  V-type  Eight. 


This  Diana  Line  Eight  Cabriolet  Roadster  produced  by  Moon  specialists,  is 
credited  with  intriguing  lines,  tiger  getaway,  and  superb  comfort. 


Don  Douglas,  airplane  builder,  knows  motors.  Here  he  is 
with  his  Franklin  “Camel”  Sport  Roadster,  the 
famous  air-cooled  six  series. 


Nash  has  designed  a new  engine  used  exclusively  in  his  closed  models.  This 
Advanced  Six  4-Door  Sedan  has  the  new  “Closed  Car  Motor.” 


A Sedan  of  novel 
design,  built  to 
offset  wind  resis- 
tance, after  the 
German  idea,  is 
introduced  by 
Velie  in  this  six. 
“better  vision” 
closed  car. 


28 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


mechanical  features,  combined  in  a long, 
low,  swift  looking  car.  The  maximum 
outside  height  of  the  entire  line  of  six  body 
types  is  70  inches,  making  it  possible  for  a 
person  of  average  height  to  look  clear  over 
the  car  when  standing  on  the  curbing. 

One  standard  price,  under  $3500,  has 
been  set  for  all  six  Stutz  models,  a sales 
innovation  which  will  no  doubt  be  followed 
eventually  by  many  builders.  The  engine 
is  eight-in-line  with  nine  main  bearings 
and  an  overhead  valve  control  assembly, 
automatically  oiled.  Automatic  oiling  is 
also  carried  out  in  the  chassis.  The  fam- 
ous Stutz  under-slung  chassis  is  retained 
with  refinements  and  improvements.  The 
seat  level  is  only  30  inches  from  the  pave- 
ment, and  although  the  car  is  rated  131 
inches  long,  it  can  be  turned  in  a 24  foot 
radius.  Latest  type  hydraulic  four  wheel 
brakes,  balloon  tires  special  cam  and  lever 
steering  gear  for  balloon  tires,  with  co- 
ordinated spring  design,  are  said  to  make 
these  new  cars  remarkably 
comfortable  and  so  easily 
and  positively  controlled  that 
they  are  practically  skid- 
proof,  even  at  high  speed,  on 
wet  surfaces. 

In  fact  many  features  of 
the  new  Stutz  line  and  the 
methods  outlined  for  their 
distribution  and  sale  are 
prophetic,  marking  a trend 
close  to  policies  adopted  all 
along  the  line  by  the  fore- 
most motor  car  makers. 

Two  sport  roadsters  and 
four  closed  body  types  make 
up  the  line. 

Most  of  the  new  cars  for 
1926  are  closed  models, 
with  smart  roadsters,  equip- 
ped with  rumble  seats,  rep- 
resenting the  open  types. 

And  even  the  roadsters  and 
speedsters  are  receiving  brisk 
competition  by  the  advent  of 
many  sport  coupes. 

General  Motors  an- 
nounces an  entirely  new  six, 


the  Pontiac,  fea- 
tured in  a coupe 
and  a coach  to 
sell  around  a 
thousand  dollars, 
distributed  as  a 
companion  car  to 
the  Oakland  line. 
It  is  reported  to 
be  the  ‘‘last 
word”  in  moder- 
ate priced  trans- 
portation, carry- 
ing all  the  newest 
mechanical  and 
comfort  features, 
such  as  automatic 
lubrication,  spe- 
cial easy  - ride 
spring  design, 


Majel  Coleman  had  the  first  ride  in  this  new  Jordan  Line  Eight  Playboy  which 
has  an  engine  designed  after  the  turbine  principle. 


feather-finger  control,  and  marked  opera- 
tion economy  by  reason  of  a friction-free 
motor  of  powerful,  but  small  piston 


Readily  convertible  from  sleek  sport  roadster  to  snug  coupe,  this  new  Kissel 
model  is  offered  in  both  six  and  eight.  It  is  called  the  “All-Year  Car.” 


construction.  The 
closed  cars  un- 
doubtedly hold 
the  center  of  the 
picture.  Some 
makers  have  quit 
building  open 
models,  while 
others  offer  them 
only  in  de  luxe 
designs.  Times 
have  certainly 
changed.  Yester- 
day, the  rich  man 
was  known  by 
his  closed  car. 
Today,  the  open 
sport  type  vehicle 
is  the  mark  of  af- 


fluence ; for  it  is  usually  the  second  car  in 
the  family,  reserved  for  exceptionally  fine 
days.  Body  finishes  continue  to  lean  to- 
ward the  new  lacquer  coat- 
ing, although  baked  enamel 
and  multi-coated  paint  and 
varnish  coverings  are  still 
favored  by  some. 

Chassis  life  has  been 
lengthened  by  improvement 
in  fit  and  quality  of  parts. 
The  old  song  about  cars  be- 
ing built  better  in  former 
years  is  now  passe.  Today’s 
cars  are  actually  better  than 
they  were  even  two  years 
ago.  Increased  life  has  been 
gained  by  improvements  in 
design.  Pressure  lubrication 
is  now  almost  universal. 
That  increases  bearing  life, 
and  all  wearing  surfaces  are 
larger,  and  hence  slower  to 
deteriorate. 

Two  new  features,  the 
air-cleaner  and  the  oil  puri- 
fier, or  rectifier,  adopted  by 
many  leading  builders  have 
materially  increased  engine 
life.  The  former  takes  the 
dirt  out  of  the  air  which  is 
drawn  into  the  motor 
through  the  carburetor,  and  the  latter  takes 
the  grit  out  of  the  oil  in  the  crankcase;  also 
keeping  it  free  from  water  and  gasoline 
drippings,  thus  increasing  bearing  service. 

Another  interesting  device  which  is 
gaining  wide  acceptance  and  is  installed  on 
many  of  the  new  models  this  year,  is  the 
gasoline  filter.  It  became  prominent  last 
year  when  Studebaker  adopted  it  as  stand- 
ard equipment  without  any  special  pub- 
licity. 

Shock  absorbers  are  prominent  as  stock 
equipment  this  year,  adding  to  riding  com- 
fort, and  nearly  all  models  have  balloon 
tires  and  four-wheel  brakes,  with  special 
steering  improvements  which  have  in- 
creased motoring  safety  through  quick  and 
easy  car  control,  a most  vital  advantage  in 
(Continued  on  Page  59) 


A flash  of  foreign  fashion  is  incorporated  in  the  design  of  the  new  Marmon,  and 
Mitchell  Lewis  found  this  Speedster  irresistible. 


19  26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


29 


Just  an  extra  who  inherits  a million,  then  starts  out  to  spend  it. 


imons 


IF  Dickens  were  alive  today  with  all 
his  literary  urge  and  power  of  old, 
would  he  write  of  the  old  times  or  of 
the  new? 

He  wrote  of  the  things  modern  in  his 
day.  Modern  life,  contemporary  problems 
held  his  interest.  His  claim  to  imortality 
lies  in  his  revelation  of  human  frailty  and 
strength  of  humanness  in  general,  unchang- 
ing within  the  short  span  of  history.  One 
is  constrained  to  believe  that  if  the  question 
were  put  to  him,  he  would  reply, 

“Of  course  I would  write  of  the  Jazz 
Age!  Character  is  unchanging,  but  the 
conditions  surrounding  it  and  modifying 
its  manifestations,  change  with  the  passing 
years.  This  day  is  more  advanced,  more 


complex,  more  fascinating  in  its  possibili- 
ties than  those  of  my  time.  It  is  not  fair 
to  let  my  work,  with  its  comparatively  dull 
atmosphere,  stand  judgment  upon  its  hu- 
manness alone.  I would  give  it  the  ad- 
vantage of  a modern  background,  a tempo 
and  color  contemporaneous  with  its  modern 
readers.” 

A somewhat  similar  problem  confronted 
the  Paramount  organization  in  filming 
“Brewster’s  Millions.”  The  George  Barr 
McCutcheon  story  appeared  some  twenty- 
five  years  ago  in  the  form  of  a novel  and 
a stage  play.  Five  years  ago  it  was 
brought  to  the  screen  as  a Paramount  pro- 
duction featuring  Roscoe  Arbuckle. 

Such  great  technical  progress  has  been 


made  in  motion  pictures  that  any  reissue 
of  the  original  film  would  be  impractical. 

The  change  in  public  taste,  the  amaz- 
ing metamorphosis  in  the  lives  and  sur- 
roundings of  the  screen  patrons  themselves, 
is  a development  that  relegates  any  prev- 
ious version  of  the  story  still  farther  into 
the  background  of  the  past.  Stories  of 
the  year  1900  fall  into  a peculiar  class  that 
has  neither  the  romantic  color  of  tales  of 
the  more  distant  past,  nor  the  present-day 
interest  of  our  own  modern  times. 

A picturization  of  the  exact  story  against 
a modern  background  could  not  satisfy  the 
modern  taste,  yet  the  basic  dramatic  ele- 
ments of  the  story  were  too  good  to  be 
laid  away  in  the  museum  of  past  successes. 


30 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


In  the  topsy-turvy  land  of  “ Miss  Brewster  s Millions  ” stars  become  extras  and  extras  become  stars.  Here  are  ten  extras  who 
impersonate  Mary  Bickford,  Florence  Vidor,  Corinne  Griffith,  Norma  Shearer,  Mae  Murray,  Norma  Talmadge  Pola  Negri, 

Gloria  Swanson,  Betty  Bronson  and  Colleen  Moore. 


Paramount  solved  the  problem  by  changing 
the  title  and  placing  a feminine  star  in 
the  leading  role,  thus  accomplishing  several 
things  at  once.  Most  important  of  these 
is  the  fact  that  the  present  title  preserves 
the  identity  of  the  story  and  at  the  same 
time  conveys  the  thought  that  plot  changes 
are  to  be  expected. 

The  changes  in  the  superficial  elements 
of  tbe  story  are  radical;  those  in  the  basic, 
human  side  in  which  lies  the  real  value  of 
the  original  “Brewster”  are  very  slight. 
And  all  the  new  and  unfamiliar  material 
is  due  to  the  influence  of  the  moderniza- 
tion of  its  setting. 

In  those  times  when  the  original  hero 
was  a strictly  up-to-the-minute  young  man, 
his  attempt  at  spending  a million  a year 
was  so  unusual  and  presented  such  diffi- 
culties, that  it  possessed  a great  “punch.” 
Since  then,  times  have  progressed  far  be- 
yond the  author’s  wildest  dreams  so  to 


preserve  the  “punch”  of  the  idea  a girl  was 
created  to  spend  the  millions! 

At  present,  spending  a million  in  a year 
isn’t  such  a remarkable  feat.  Miss  Brew- 
ster of  1926,  as  she  is  portrayed  in  the 
Lasky  film  by  Bebe  Daniels,  must  spend 
the  amount  within  three  months! 

According  to  the  producer  this  is  a 
fairly  accurate  example  of  the  increased 
tempo  of  modern  life  during  the  twenty- 
six  years  that  have  elapsed  since  the  au- 
thor’s original  conception  of  the  story. 

In  keeping  with  that  increased  tempo 
are  the  other  elements  of  added  “pep”  and 
thrill,  flash  and  color  comprising  up-to- 
the-minute  ultra-modernism.  Lavish 
clothes,  the  absence  of  conventions  and 
social  restrictions  characteristic  of  the  most 
colorful  phases  of  modern  life  will  feature 
“Miss  Brewster,”  and  make  the  original 
spendthrift  of  the  earliest  days  of  our  pres- 


ent century  appear  dull  and  uninteresting 
in  comparison. 

Instead  of  making  the  principal  character 
a member  of  the  “four  hundred”  as  was 
the  case  in  the  original  story,  the  feminine 
Brewster  makes  her  bow  as  an  extra  girl 
in  Hollywood.  This  new  idea  holds  a 
special  significance.  In  1900,  New  York’s 
famous  social  circle  represented  the  ulti- 
mate in  speed,  the  peak  of  ultra-modernism, 
the  abode  of  thrills,  the  atmosphere  into 
which  there  entered  the  greatest  liberty  of 
thought  and  expression,  the  utmost  in  free- 
dom from  convention. 

The  life  of  an  extra  girl  in  Hollywood 
conveys  to  the  general  screen  audience  the 
present-day  ultimate  along  these  lines.  All 
classes  of  our  society  meet  and  mingle  in 
the  democracy  of  motion  picture  life.  The 
spirit  it  represents  typifies  the  complete  dis- 
appearance of  artificial  social  barriers  and 
conventions. 


19  26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


31 


■nm 


- m 


mm 


r 


Jazzing  up  "Brewster’s  Millions”  has  been  lots  of  fun  for  the  entire  staff.  Here  Miss  Daniels  is  shown  talking  over  new  gags 
with  Clarence  Badger,  director;  Monty  Brice,  scenarist;  Travis  Banton,  designer;  H.  K.  Martin,  cinematographer ; Kenneth 

Hawks,  editorial  supervisor,  and  Paul  Jones,  assistant  director. 


Incidentally,  there’s  a certain  glamor  in 
the  life  of  screen  folk  that  was  missing  in 
that  of  the  “Four  Hundred.”  “Miss 
Brewster,”  herself  a famous  star  portraying 
the  role  of  extra  girl  is  seen  meeting  many 
other  famous  stars  of  filmdom  in  her 
rounds  of  the  studios.  That  in  itself  is 
sufficient  to  interest  millions  of  picture 
patrons. 

Another  important  character  of  the  story, 
that  of  the  uncle,  has  also  been  remodeled 
in  order  to  take  him  out  of  the  class  of 
the  ancient  villain  and  thus  endow  him 
with  a greater  humanness.  A fuller, 
truer  and  less  dignified  revelation  of  one’s 
human  qualities  is  permissable  today, 
whereas  twenty-six  years  ago  it  simply 
wasn’t  being  done.  There  has  since  been 
added  the  final  touch  of  destruction  to  the 
idea  of  “poise,”  for  which  has  been  sub- 
stituted spontaneity.  Instead  of  the  stern, 


dignified,  overbearing  character  of  his  pro- 
totype, Ford  Sterling  as  the  uncle  in  “Miss 
Brewster’s  Millions”  becomes  a humorous, 
human  sort,  possessed  of  all  of  our  pres- 
ent-day weaknesses. 

To  have  attempted  making  “Brewster’s 
Millions”  with  a feminine  star  five  years 
ago  might  have  been  folly,  for  it  is  a ques- 
tion as  to  whether  or  not  the  public  would 
have  accepted  the  substitution.  Since  then, 
however,  the  screen  patrons  themselves 
have  so  accelerated  the  tempo  of  modern 
life  that  they  have  involuntarily  created 
“Miss  Brewster’s  Millions”  and  success- 
fully influenced  the  Paramount  organiza- 
tion to  screen  her  ‘a  la  mode,  proving  con- 
clusively that  forcing  the  producer  to  recog- 
nize intelligent  public  taste  stimulates  com- 
petition and  creates  better  pictures. 

If  in  some  future  development  of  the 
public  taste,  interest  should  shift  to  men 


instead  of  remaining,  as  it  is  a present,  fo- 
cussed on  women  and  their  problems,  per- 
haps some  enterprising  producer  will  bring 
forth  “Brewster’s  Millions”  for  the  third 
time,  and  allow  a man  to  spend  the  mil- 
lions. 

Meanwhile  Bebe  Daniels  as  the  come- 
dienne who  must  spend  the  million  in  three 
months,  should  keep  her  audience  hysterical 
from  the  time  she  makes  her  entrance  on 
a miniature  horse  following  a wagon-load 
of  hay,  all  the  way  through  to  the  high- 
speed finish  of  the  film.  The  radical  de- 
parture of  the  producers  in  making  the  star 
of  the  play  feminine  is  more  than  justified 
by  the  promise  of  her  performance  for  this 
role,  and  the  lavish  staging  that  is  being 
given  the  production  by  Director  Clarence 
Badger.  Miss  Daniels  has,  in  her  role  of 
“Miss  Brewster,”  the  sort  of  opportunities 
in  which  she  appears  to  the  greatest  ad- 
vantage. 


February 


32 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


Below — Alice  O'Neill  in  her 
workshop  at  Universal  City 
supervising  the  execution  of 
her  designs  for  the  Ballet  of 
Jewels.  Right  — the  Gold 
Girl  as  evolved  from  the 
original  sketch  shown  im- 
mediately below.  Right 
center — Pearl  with  inset  of 
the  original  conception. 


THE  JEWEL  BALLET  from 

//LICE  O’NEILL,  who  designed  the  costumes  for 
v y “The  Midnight  Sun,”  Dimitri  Buchowetski’s  spectac- 
ular picture-story  of  life  in  pre-war  Russia  for  Uni- 
versal has  given  to  the  film  world  one  of  its  most  colorful  and 
brilliant  spectacles  in  the  Ballet  of  Jewels  sequence  of  that 
production  scheduled  for  fall  release  on  the  L^niversal  Super- 
Jewel  program. 

While  hut  a spectacular  incident  in  the  dramatic  action  of 
the  story  itself,  its  sheer  beauty  and  color  make  it  one  of  the 
most  interesting  and  attractive  highlights  of  the  picture  as  a 
whole.  The  story,  which  centers  around  the  character  of  a 


7 9 26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


33 


“THE  MIDNIGHT  SUN” 


little  ballerino  in  the  Russian  opera  (played  by  Laura  La 
Plante)  reaches  one  of  its  dramatic  peaks  in  the  ballerino’s 
first  appearance  in  a premiere  role.  It  was  to  give  this  feature 
of  the  story  a proper  setting  that  the  Ballet  of  Jewels  was 
planned.  Several  suggestions  were  offered  for  the  particular 
treatment,  but  were  discarded  in  favor  of  the  more  brilliant 
spectacle  as  finally  conceived.  In  planning  the  ballet  full  cog- 
nizance had  to  be  taken  of  the  limitations  of  the  screen  which, 
strangely  enough,  in  this  particular  instance,  are  greater  than 
those  of  the  stage,  and  several  suggestions  had  to  be  abandoned 
for  that  reason.  (Continued  on  Page  66) 


Below — Black  Diamond,  the 
contrasting  note  in  a kaleide- 
scope  of  color.  This  is  the 
evolution  of  the  sketch  Miss 
O’Neill  is  holding  on  the  op- 
posite page.  Left  Center — 
Diamond,  with  accompany- 
ing sketch.  Right — The 
Ring  Girl.  Center  — the 
ensemble  of  the  Ballet  of 
Jewels  in  the  Grotto  of 
Gems. 


34 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


HOLLYWOOD  BUILDS 


AMID  much  popping  of  fire  crackers 
and  oriental  ceremonies  fitting  such 
' an  occasion  ground  was  broken 
January  3 for  the  building  of  the  Sid 
Grauman’s  new  Chinese  Theatre  at  Holly- 
wood boulevard  and  Orchid  street,  a vis- 
ualization of  which  is  conveyed  by  the  ac- 
companying pen  and  ink  sketch  from  the 
architect’s  drawings.  Below,  reading  from 

left  to  right,  and 
appearing  as  some 
of  the  principals 
in  the  event,  are 
shown  Sid  Grau- 
man,  Norma 
Talmadge,  Lige 
Conley  and  Anna 
May  Wong,  with 
Miss  Talmadge 
holding  the  gold 


( Continued  on 
Page  63) 


19  26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE 


DIRECTOR 


35 


NEW  TEMPLES  OF  ART 


AT  THE  hour  of  high  noon  on  the 
second  of  January  Harry  M.  War- 
■ ner,  president  of  Warner  Bros.  Pic- 
tures, Inc.,  presented  the  gold  spade,  with 
which  ground  was  broken  for  the  new  six- 
story  Warner  Bros.  Hollywood  Theatre, 
at  Hollywood  boulevard  and  Wilcox  ave- 
nue, to  Motley  Flint,  executive  vice-presi- 
dent of  the  Pacific-Southwest  Trust  and 
Savings  Bank, 
and  the  first  dirt 
was  turned  with 
suitable  ceremon- 
ies. Charley 
Wellman  was  on 
hand,  and  his 
“Don’t  go  ’way, 
folks!”  an- 
nounced  to 
K F W B radio 
fans  that  they, 
too,  were  to  par- 
ticipate in  the  ex- 
ercises. Below 
are  shown  the 
principals  who 

(Continued  on 
Page  63) 


VM 


f f '• 

♦ v:f  < 

A i a 


36 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


BY  FRANK 


OLD  Grand  Teton,  mighty,  snow- 
clad  monarch,  reared  his  vener- 
able, white-crowned  head  over  the 
lesser  but  still  towering  peaks 
of  the  Teton  range — reared  his  head, 
blinked  his  eyes,  and  stared  down  into  the 
Jackson  Hole  country  in  astonishment. 

He  has  seen  the  ages  go  by;  had  watched 
the  passing  of  whole  geological  epochs  im- 
measurable in  puny  years.  From  the  time 
of  his  chaotic,  raw-edged  and  undisciplined 
vouth,  he  had  watched  broodingly  over  the 
W voming  plains.  Even  before  the  glaciers 
had  polished  him ; before  they  and  the 
storms  of  ages  had  made  soil  around  his 
lower  slopes  and  vegetation  had  sprouted 
there,  he  had  observed  animal  life  out  on 
the  plains. 

Lower  down,  right  at  his  feet,  grew 
long,  rank  grass  loved  by  the  mammoth. 
When  the  glaciers  and  the  passing  of  time 
had  left  of  the  animals  only  the  weaker 
and  the  smaller,  notably  an  insignicant  de- 
scendant of  the  great  cave  bear,  the  weakest 
puniest  animal  of  all  made  his  appearance 
— a man,  walking  on  his  hind  legs,  depend- 
ent for  protection  against  the  cold  on  the 
hides  of  other  animals  incapable  of  much 
of  a fight  with  tooth,  claw  and  fist — but 
endowed  with  a marvelous  facility  for 
shaping  inanimate  things  to  his  needs. 

He  proved,  to  Grand  Teton,  the  most 
fascinating  spectacle  in  the  drama  of  the 
ages.  The  tribe  was  weak  and  few  at  first, 


but  soon  waxed 
mighty;  and  yet,  at 
what  appeared  the 
height  of  its  power, 
another  tribe  came 
in  and  conquered  it. 

Weak  and  few  were 
they,  at  first,  but 
they,  like  the  dark- 
er-skinned tribe 
which  had  preceded 
them,  grew  amaz- 
ingly in  numbers, 
and  beyond  all  grasp 
of  the  great  moun- 
tain’s imagination, 
in  power. 

Not  only  fire  and 
clubs  and  spears, 
and  arrows  that  kill 
at  long  distance, 
were  theirs,  but  har- 
nessed thunder  and 
steam  and  other  na- 
tural forces.  Grand 
Teton  at  last  saw 
steel  rails  invading  his  very  range,  tunnels 
through  his  granite  shoulders,  cuts  high 
on  the  sides  of  his  canyons.  He  finally 
saw  a giant  man-made  insect  that  buzzed 
through  the  air,  bearing  men  on  its  back. 

Then,  as  we  have  said  in  the  beginning, 
he  saw  the  most  amazing  thing  of  all. 
He  had  been  dreaming  of  the  liveliest, 


the  most  interesting  and  thrilling  of  all 
the  time  he  had  witnessed  since.  Earth  had 
thrust  him  forth  into  the  air.  1 hose 
times  were  the  days  at  Jackson’s  Hole  and 
its  surrounding  country,  when  the  Indian 
territories  were  opened  for  settlement,  and 
the  place  became  the  most  noted  rendez- 
vous for  “band  men”  in  the  West. 


1926 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


37 


m: 


o 


A.  MURRAY 


Those  days  had  gone  by — he  had  seen 
the  aeroplane  and  the  automobile.  But 
when  he  had  opened  his  eyes  from  dream- 
ing of  that  colorful  time,  there,  before  his 
amazed,  far-reaching  vision,  was  being  re- 
enacted the  scenes  of  the  past ! It  was  a 
violation  of  the  evolution  that  he  had 
watched  through  the  centuries — an  evolu- 


tion so  steady  that 
he  had  learned  to 
hid  good-bye  to  each 
vanishing  epoch  as  a 
thing  of  memory, 
something  gone  for- 
ever and  beyond  re- 
call. 

Was  he  still 
dreaming  — or  did 
he  see  ghosts  of  the 
old  road-agents  gal- 
lop madly  across  the 
low-lying  flat  of  no- 
torious Jackson’s 
Hole?  There  were 
the  unending  wagon 
trains  pushing  for- 
ward in  the  face  of 
almost  impossible 
difficulties.  The 
towns  of  tents  were 
there,  ruled  by  the 
worst  of  bad  men, 
by  force  of  gun  and 
bowie-knife. 

No,  here  were  no 
ghosts,  and  he  was 
not  dreaming.  The 
lurid  history  of  strife,  bloodshed,  black 
deeds  and  gallant  deeds  of  old  was  once 
more  transpiring  before  his  eyes,  curiously 
mingled  with  manifestations  of  the  modern 
age  such  as  automobiles. 

The  story  of  Jackson’s  Hole  unfolded 
as  he  had  seen  it  unfold  in  real  life.  There 
was  the  time  when  the  rule  of  the  bad  men 


reached  its  zenith ; when  evil  force  was 
supreme  and  lawlessness  was  the  law.  Then 
came  stern  justice;  retribution,  swift  and 
sure;  the  six-gun  became  the  symbol  of 
law  and  order. 

There  were,  besides  automobiles  and 
other  modern  equipment,  and  the  things 
of  the  old  times,  curious  things  that  be- 
longed to  the  new  times,  yet  made  it  pos- 
sible to  link  old  times  with  new;  to  give 
to  a vast  audience  over  all  the  world  eyes 
that  saw  farther  than  the  eyes  of  Grand 
Teton  himself;  age  and  experience  greater 
even  than  his.  Motion  picture  cameras.  . . 

John  Ford,  a young  Fox  Films  director 
who  put  on  the  screen  a picture  of  giant 
theme,  “The  Iron  Horse,”  and  rose  by  its 
fame  into  the  first  ranks  of  directors,  was 
responsible  for  the  spectacle  that  made  Old 
Grand  Teton  think  that  he  had  been 
dreaming  of  the  past  again ; that,  more 
important,  will  open  to  the  eyes  of  the 
world’s  great  cinema  audience  one  of  the 
most  picturesque  and  thoroughly  repre- 
sentative periods  and  locales  of  the  West’s 
storied  lawlessness. 

The  new  Ford  drama  is  called  “The 
World  of  Promise,”  originally  entitled 
“Three  Bad  Men” — a tale  of  empire 
building,  outlawry,  and  the  struggle  cen- 
tering around  Jackson’s  Hole,  Wyoming, 
and  having  its  period  at  that  critical  time 
when  the  Indian  territories  were  opened 
for  settlement  by  whites.  The  theme  is 
great  in  scope,  and  yet  the  story  differs 
from  that  of  “The  Iron  Horse”  and  other 


38 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


John  Ford, 
The  Director 


photoplays  which  have  been  styled  screen 
epics,  in  its  emphasis  upon  human  drama 
rather  than  the  movement  of  peoples,  or 
upon  war,  or  conquest. 

With  Director  Ford  and  the  production 
staff  were  George  O’Brien  and  Olive 
Borden,  romantic  leads;  J.  Farrell  Mac- 
donald, peerless  “Corporal  Casey”  of  “The 
Iron  Horse,”  Tom  Santschi,  Frank  Cam- 
peau,  Lou  Tellegen,  Jay  Hunt,  Otis  Har- 
lan, George  Harris  and  a host  of  others 
appearing  in  chief  supporting  roles. 

In  the  very  heart  of  the  celebrated 
“Hole,”  John  Ford  and  his  company  lived 
in  the  open,  undergoing  the  test  of  the 
rugged  climate  of  late  autumn  and  early 
winter.  The  towering  Tetons,  on  one  side, 
and  the  glorious  Shoshone  range  on  the 
other  with  their  snow-capped  peaks  and 
deep  canyons,  inspired  the  production  to 
the  greatness  of  pioneer  picture  undertak- 
ings. 

Death  Canyon,  notorious  retreat  of  the 
old-time  cattle  rustlers  who  inhabited  the 
Jackson  Hole  country,  was  used  for  a 
scenic  background  for  many  of  the  big 
scenes  in  the  production.  While  in  the 
“Hole”  filming  exterior  scenes,  the  direc- 
tor took  advantage  of  the  proximity  of 
the  noted  landmark  and  “shot”  scenes  on 
the  very  spot  where,  in  years  past,  widely 
known  thieves  had  assembled. 

The  story  of  the  construction  of  the 
Wyoming  camp  wherein  the  company  was 


of  “The  Iron  Horse.” 
The  advance  guard 
was  sent  from  the  Los 
Angeles  studio  three 
months  prior  to  the 
time  that  Director  John  Ford  led  his  pic- 
ture-makers to  the  scene  of  activity.  Three- 
fourths  of  this  time  was  used  in  clearing 
the  campsite  of  growth  to  allow  for  the 
construction  of  the  tent  city.  Once  this 
clearing  was  made,  five  weeks  sufficed  for 
the  gang  of  workmen  to  erect  the  tents, 
build  floors  and  set  up  stoves. 

Difficulties  in  transportation  and  the  in- 
ability of  the  merchants  to  meet  the  heavy 
demand  for  material  handicapped  the  con- 
struction of  the  canvas  town.  Lumber, 
used  in  such  quantities  that  mills  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  camp  were  startled  at  the 
size  of  the  orders,  was  purchased  from  four 
sawmills,  three  being  located  in  Wyoming 
and  the  fourth  in  Idaho.  The  mills  were 
all  located  more  than  forty  miles  from 
camp,  causing  a long  delay  in  the  delivery 
of  the  necessary  lumber. 

After  the  first  heavy  drain  upon  the 
resources  of  the  sawmills,  these  institu- 
tions were  unable  to  cope  with  the  situa- 
tion and  as  it  was  vitally  necessary  to  have 
a constant  supply  of  lumber  to  complete  the 
camp  before  the  invasion  of  the  production 
unit,  crews  were  sent  into  the  forest,  tim- 
bers were  felled,  snaked  to  the  mills,  which 
turned  them  into  the  planks,  thus  eliminat- 
ing long  delay. 

After  the  initial  influx  of  workmen,  the 
construction  engineers  were  confronted 


quartered  is  as  full  of  daring  exploits  and 
romance  as  a fiction  story. 

The  campsite  at  Jack- 
son’s Hole,  while  it  is  in 
northern  Wyoming,  was 
situated  nearly  one  hun- 
dred miles  from  the  path 


with  the  problem  of  keeping  their  supplies 
coming  into  camp.  To  insure  regular  de- 
liveries, one  hundred  and  fifty  trucks  were 
constantly  traveling  between  the  Fox  Films 
camp  and  Victor,  Idaho,  a distance  of 
nearly  one  hundred  miles.  When  climatic 
conditions  were  favorable,  these  trips  were 
completed  in  forty-eight  hours  each. 

In  spite  of  such  difficulties  and  setbacks, 
the  camp  was  completely  finished  when 
Director  Ford  and  his  company  arrived. 
The  production  unit  arrived  late  in  the 
afternoon  and  started  camera  work  the 
following  morning  with  every  department 
functioning  as  swiftly  and  smoothly  as 
though  the  protecting  hand  of  the  studio 
was  just  around  the  corner. 

From  Pocatello,  Idaho,  to  the  lower  end 
of  Hogback  Canyon,  Wyoming,  a distance 
of  three  hundred  miles,  emissaries  of  Fox 
Film  Corporation  traversed,  gathering  the 
herds  of  horses  and  wagons;  covered  wag- 
ons and  surreys ; oxen  and  wild  animals 
and  the  vast  horde  of  humans  that  appear 
in  the  production. 

Two  hundred  and  fifty  horses  and  fifty 
wagons  were  utilized  during  the  construc- 
tion of  the  camp.  These  were  added  to 
five  hundred  saddle  horses  for  the  big 
scenes  in  the  photoplay.  Three  thousand 
steers  were  rounded  up  for  the  picture. 
To  feed  this  large  herd  of  animals,  thirty 
hay  wagons,  using  one  hundred  and  twenty 
horses,  were  constantly  hauling  hay  from 
Jackson,  Wyoming,  thirty  miles  away. 
These  teams  never  stopped.  Night  and 
day  the  procession  moved  across  the  Jack- 
son  Hole  flats  with  the  loads  of  hay. 

One  hundred  and  fifty  laborers  and  fifty 
carpenters,  augmented  by  machinists  and 
loggers,  comprised  the  working  crew. 
More  than  half  a million  feet  of  lumber 
was  used  in  building  the  camp. 

The  public  little  realizes  what  fore- 
thought, preparation  and  organization  is 
involved  in  a huge  motion  picture  location 
movement.  The  only  news  to  reach  the 
outside  world  during  an  activity  of  this  na- 
ture is  of  the  fanciful  brand:  interesting 
notes  of  the  players,  fictional  tales  of  the 
surroundings  and  catchy  paragraphs  per- 
taining to  the  new  experiences  of  the  stars. 

In  the  production  of  “The  World  of 
Promise,”  a vivid  example  of  motion  pic- 
ture efficiency  was  shown  by  the  moving 
of  the  huge  Ford  camp  from  Wyoming  to 
the  Mojave  desert,  near  Victorville,  Calif. 

At  the  outset  the  studio  officials  were 
confronted  with  the  huge  task  of  providing 
sturdy,  clean,  warm  living  accommodations 
for  nearly  five  thousand  people,  which  alone 
constitutes  a herculean  task.  Not  only  this 
phase  of  preparation  was  intensive.  Three 
thousand  horses  and  other  kinds  of  live 
stock  had  to  be  sanitarily  corralled. 

Over  a million  feet  of  lumber  was  used 
in  the  building  of  the  street  sets  for  use 
on  the  desert  location.  One  hundred  and 
fifty  carpenters  and  skilled  studio  mechan- 
ics worked  for  two  months  prior  to  the 
arrival  of  the  production  unit  erecting 
(Continued  on  Page  66) 


19  26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


39 


Margaret  Livingstone 
wearing  a black  French 
spider  lace  gown  over 
flesh  colored  silk  dem- 
onstrates in  the  Wil- 
liam Fox  production 
“ A Trip  to  Chinatown” 
what  the  well-dressed 
“vamp”  should  wear. 
One  sleeve  is  fashioned 
of  the  dress  material, 
the  other  of  georgette. 
Both  are  edged  in 
monkey  fur.  The  only 
touch  of  ornamenta- 
tion about  the  costume 
is  in  the  elborate  rhine- 
stone shoe  buckles. 


I 


* *t 


Speaking  o f 
Shawls : Do- 

lores Del  Rio, 
{left)  and  Lil- 
yan  T ashman 
{right)  pose 
for  _ camera 
studies  in  new 
shawls  of  hand 
painted  design 
and  exotic  col- 
oring. 


AS  WORN 
BY  THE 
PLAYERS 


40 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


mencas 


% 


SHE  will  never  be  allowed  to  grow 
up.  The  little  girl  who,  at  the  age 
of  five,  began  her  stage  career  with 
juvenile  parts  in  the  Valentine  stock  com- 
pany of  Toronto,  Canada,  struck  a chord 
in  the  heart  of  America’s  amusement  pa- 
trons that  has  endured,  and  will  endure. 

Fame  is  a peculiar  thing.  To  some  who 
attain  it  to  a great  degree,  it  comes  over- 
night. Lord  Byron  is  by  no  means  the 
solitary  example  of  a human  being  waking 
in  the  morning  to  find  himself  upon  its 
pedestal.  But  fame  enshrouded  Mary 
Pickford  gradually,  and  it  is  hard  to  say 
at  what  point  in  her  career  it  really  began 
— just  at  what  time  she  became  “Amer- 
ica’s Sweetheart.” 

It  would  not  be  too  far-fetched,  in  the 
light  of  subsequent  developments,  to  say 
that  it  began  when  she  was  nine  years  old. 
At  that  age  she  was  starring  in  stage  pro- 
ductions such  as  “The  Fatal  Wedding,” 
playing  juvenile  parts  that  were  usually 
older  than  herself;  in  other  words,  the 
nine-year-old  girl  even  then  had  begun 
to  lay  the  foundations  of  her  present 
fame  through  playing  just  the  sort  of 
roles  in  which  she  is  beloved  today. 

As  a child  nearing  her  ’teens,  she 
played  with  Chauncy  Olcott  in  “Ed- 
mund Burke,”  for  Belasco  in  “The 
Warrens  of  Virginia,”  and  in  many 
other  productions  in  which  her  parts 
were  overshadowed  by  names  and  per- 
sonalities who  were  then  famous,  and 
whose  roles  gave  them  the  center  of  the 
stage.  Yet  her  fame  as  well  as  her 
ability  may  have  been  growing  even 
then ; one  might  almost  say  it  must 
have  been  growing — for  is  she  not,  to- 
day, in  spite  of  her  real-life  physical 
maturity,  the  same  little  girl  of  those 
early  stage  roles? 

When  she  went  into  motion  pictures, 
in  the  days  before  the  film  players  were 
given  personal  publicity  and  screen 
credit,  she  had  to  “start  all  over  again” 
in  one  sense.  She  became  known  as 
“The  Biograph  Blonde.”  But  the  Mary 
Pickford  personality,  in  some  way, 
emerged  from  this  trade-marked  obscur- 
ity, and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  a few 
more  noted  stage  players  had  overcome 
their  prejudice  against  films  and  were 
working  before  the  camera,  she  was  one 
of  the  first  to  become  known  to  the 
public. 


An  early  picture  of  Mary  Pickford, 
showing  her  at  the  time  when  she 
first  appeared  on  the  stage  in  Be- 
lasco productions,  and  Mary  Pick- 
ford as  she  is  today.  “Little  Mary” 
never  grows  up  and  whether  it  is  in 
her  latest  pictures,  “Sparrows,”  ex- 
treme right,  and  “Annie  Rooney,” 
lower  left,  or  in  "Heart  o’  the  Hills” 
or  “The  Hoodlum,”  she  is — Amer- 
ica's sweetheart. 


Producers  began  to  discover  that  the 
people  were  willing  to  pay  to  see  Mary 
Pickford,  regardless  of  film  trademarks 
and  story  titles.  Experiments  in  placing 
her  in  various  types  of  roles  established 
the  fact  that  her  following  wanted  their 
star  to  play  the  sort  of  stories  which 


1 926 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


41 


i 


and  “Amarilly  of  Clothesline  Alley.”  The 
international  success  of  “Little  Annie  Roo- 
ney” proves  that  there  is  no  change  of 
mind  and  taste  on  the  part  of  the  motion 
picture  goers,  insofar  as  Miss  Pickford  is 
concerned. 

The  picture  she  has  just  completed,  “Spar- 
rows,” presents  the  star  in  a role  that  un- 
doubtedly will  take  its  place  in  public  favor 
with  her  past  triumphs.  “Scraps”  was  the 
original  title,  and  the  story  deals  with 
Mary’s  adventures  with  a little  band  of 
mistreated  orphans  on  a baby  farm. 

“Even  without  Mary,  ‘Sparrows’  would 
be  a great  picture,”  said  Douglas  Fair- 
banks when  he  and  Joseph  M.  Schenck 
viewed  the  completed  production. 

In  that  remark  lies  considerable  signifi- 
cance. The  public  will  not  let  Mary  Pick- 
ford  depart  from  her  role,  and  the  star’s 
name  is  sufficient  to  make  almost  any  pas- 
sably good  picture  a big  financial  success. 
But  she  and  her  producers  are  not  relying 
(Continued  on  Page  60) 


work  had  really  made  popular  for  the  first 
time.  No  one  wanted  her  to  grow  up. 
Similar  experiments  have  been  made  ever 
since,  sporadically,  and  the  result  has  al- 


ways been  the  same.  There  is  a Mary 
Pickford  role,  typified  by  her  outstanding 
successes  in  such  pictures  as  “Rebecca  of 
Sunnybrook  Farm,”  “Daddy  Long  Legs,” 


42 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE 


DIRECTOR 


February 


Above 

Nita  Naldi 


Right 

Dolores 

Costello 


Below 

Helen  Lee 
Worthington 


THE  FOLLIES  GIRL 

As  told  by  Sally  Long 


beautiful  as  some  of  the  millions  of  others 
trying  to  break  into  the  movies,  but  the 
public — or  a goodly  portion  of  it — knows 
me  as  young  and  beautiful  and  my  name, 
as  a Follies  girl,  has  a certain  amount  of 
box-office  value  that  gives  me  an  edge  on 
all  of  the  others  trying  to  break  onto  the 
screen. 

“Then,  too,  Mat  Stone  has  been  hang- 
ing around  ever  since  I met  him  when  he 
came  to  New  York  a couple  of  weeks  ago 
and  he  can  help  a lot  for  he  puts  up  the 
money  for  a lot  of  pictures.” 

Then  began  an  argument  which  lasted 
for  months.  Betty  and  I had  ten  minutes 
in  the  wings  together,  between  numbers, 
every  night.  And  every  night  we  argued 
the  advantages  and  disadvantages  of  a ca- 
reer in  motion  pictures  and  one  on  the 
stage.  I pointed  to  the  security  of  our  po- 
sition with  Mr.  Ziegfeld.  He  had  made 
us,  given  us  an  opportunity  to  acquire  a 
certain  amount  of  wealth  and  a great  deal 
of  fame. 

Betty  spoke  of  the  quicker  success  to  be 
attained  in  the  films.  You  get  six  or  eight 
chances  a year  to  do  something  big.  Here 
you  get  your  numbers  at  the  beginning  of 
the  season  and  have  no  chance  to  try  for 


Marian 

Davies 


Sally  Long 


“H 


AS  a Fol- 
lies girl 
any  better 
chance  of  making  a 
success  of  a career 
in  motion  pictures 
than  another  girl  of 
equal  beauty,  ability 
and  intelligence?” 

It  was  in  the  ear- 
ly fall  of  1924  that 
I first  began  to  puz- 
zle over  this  ques- 
tion. It  all  started 
when  I casually  in- 
quired of  my  chum, 
Betty  Grey,  as  I dropped  into  a chair  be- 
side her  in  the  wings  of  the  Selwyn  The- 
atre, “Well,  where  do  we  go  from  here?” 

Just  an  expression,  something  to  say,  but 
she  chose  to  take  it  seriously.  “I’m  going 
to  Hollywood,”  she  calmly  proclaimed. 
“I’m  tired  of  working  all  night  and  re- 
hearsing all  day  and  living  in  a tiny  apart- 
ment. People  in  the  show  business  know 
who  I am  now.  I can  get  to  see  the  direc- 
tors and  producers  by  just  sending  in  my 
name.  I may  not  be  any  younger  or  as 


19  26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


43 


something  bigger  and  better  for  another 
year.” 

Betty  won  the  argument — and  stayed  in 
New  York.  I lost — and  came  to  Holly- 
wood. 

I think  that  it  was  the  list  of  Follies 
girls  who  had  come  to  Hollywood  and 
made  a success  that  decided  me.  I couldn’t 
think  of  a one  who  had  failed.  And  there 
was  Marion  Davies,  Nita  Naldi,  Ann  Pen- 
nington, Dolores  Costello,  Lilyan  Tash- 
man,  Jacqueline  Logan,  Billie  Dove,  Helen 
Lee  Worthing,  Blanche  Mehaffey,  Joce- 
lyn Lee  and  a half  dozen  others  who 
had  made  a name  for  themselves  in  the 
films. 

If  the  Follies  girl,  by  virtue  of  her 
reputation  for  beauty  and  the  box-office 
value  of  her  name,  had  a better  oppor- 
tunity of  breaking  onto  the  screen  than  y 
the  average  newcomer  to  Hollywood, 
she  must  also  have  a better  chance  of 
staying  there,  I decided.  For  hadn’t 
all  the  Follies  girls  who  had  gone  to  Holly- 
wood stayed  there?  I had  never  heard  of 
any  coming  back,  begging  for  their  old 
job.  It  must  be  that  the  training,  the 
knowledge  of  how  to  take  direction,  of  tim- 


Anne  Pennington,  Jacqueline  Logan 
and  Billie  Dove  at  Fox  Studios 

Right—  Dorothy  Mackaill 
Below — Lilyan  Tashman 


(Continued  on  Page  66) 


Kathryn  Perry 

ON  THE  SCREEN 

to  C.  S.  Dunning 


44 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


Muskrat  fur  in  plaid  design  forms 
a novel  idea  for  trimming  this 
beach  Club  sport  dress.  The  wide 
cuffs,  band  and  scarf,  all  but  cover 
the  straight  line  crepe  gown,  and 
the  short  ruffle  at  the  bottom  of 
the  skirt  and  sleeves  are  a most 
unusual  finish.  IV orn  by  Ruth 
Stewart  of  the  Majestic  Theatre. 


1 926 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


45 


Photo  by  Mandeville 


Gwendolyn  Lee,  featured  Metro-Goldwyn- 
Mayer  player  wearing  a cape  of  silver  ap- 
plique finished  at  the  bottom  with  sea  foam 
green  maline  pleating  and  at  neck  with 
maline  ruff  finished  with  hand  rolled  petals. 
To  be  worn  over  a dance  frock  of  same 
material,  with  plain  silver  pumps  and  dia- 
mond buckles. 


Alice  Calhoun  charmingly  wears  this  plaid 
taffeta  and  batiste  embroidery  dress  with 
full  flare  skirt  and  full  sleeves,  one  of  the 
surprises  in  the  mode  for  the  coming 
summer. 


GOWNS — ORIGINAL  CREATIONS  BY 
ETHEL  PAINTER  CHAFFIN 


by  ETHEL  PAINTER  CHAFFIN 


FUR  CREATIONS  BY 
WILLARD  H.  GEORGE,  INC. 


I should  like  to  feel,  when  designing  and 
creating  apparel  for  the  women  of 
Southern  California,  that  we  have 
enough  individuality  to  dress  becomingly. 
We  must  bear  in  mind  that  the  gown  we 
so  much  admire  on  another,  even  though 
beautifully  designed  and  executed,  may  ill 
become  our  own  personality. 

The  individual  figure,  more  than  ever 
before,  is  demanding  the  attention  of  the 
leading  French  designers,  and  to  it  they  are 
turning  their  entire  attention.  If  your  in- 
dividual figure  requires  long  skirts,  do  not 
wear  the  shorter  ones  simply  because  Paris 


decrees  that  skirts  shall  be  fourteen  inches 
from  the  floor.  Consider  your  figure  and 
the  effect  a long  or  short  skirt  will  have 
in  giving  to  you  the  desired  silhouette. 

Study  the  accessories,  for  they  play  an 
important  role  in  the  ensemble.  Shoes  and 
hose  must  be  carefully  considered.  Do  not 
wear  snake  skin  shoes  and  hat  and  carry 
a hand-bag  of  the  same  material  when 
wearing  a dark  tailored  gown.  Accessor- 
ies are  necessary  and  smart  when  worn  with 
sport  costumes  or  an  ensemble  carefully 
thought  out.  The  women  of  Southern 
California  are  acknowledged  among  the 


smartest  dressed  women  of  American  and 
in  establishing  a prestige,  we  should  each 
one  of  us  wear  the  becoming  things.  Per- 
sonality is  the  keynote.  A gown  or  wrap 
correctly  designed  to  the  individual  will 
give  that  certain  touch  and  poise  that  is 
recognized  instantly  as  good  taste. 

The  morning  sports  costume  can  be  se- 
vere and  plain,  but  shoes,  hose,  hats,  gloves 
and  bag  should  be  adapted  accordingly. 
There  is  nothing  more  delightful  than  the 
smart  white  tailored  sport  suit,  supple- 
mented by  the  new  snake  skin  shoes,  hat 
and  bag.  Snake  skin  will  play  an  im- 


46 


T H t 


MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


portant  part  in  milady’s  costume  this  spring, 
and  as  it  comes  in  a wide  range  of  colors 
it  is  readily  adapted  to  almost  any  costume 
design.  If  furs  are  worn  for  sport  wear, 
they  should  proclaim  the  purpose  for  which 
they  are  intended.  With  the  various  pelts 
on  the  market  today  there  is  a wide  selec- 
tion from  which  to  choose  furs  suitable  for 
motoring  to  and  from  the  Country  Club 
or  for  the  shopping  tour. 

The  familiar  nutria  is  soft  and  warm, 
very  durable,  and  of  a rich  brown  shade  so 
becoming  to  most  women.  Sealion  and 
the  leopard  dyed  kids,  newcomers  in  this 
field,  many  times  trimmed  with  fox  or 
other  contrasting  fur  have  a dash  that  is 
most  youthful. 

The  luncheon  ensemble  should  become  a 
bit  more  intimate  as  it  may  drift  into  a 
bridge  or  a Mah  Jong  for  the  afternoon. 
A combination  of  cloth  or  crepe  and  chiffon 
is  correct  or  even  a lovely  embroidered 
frock  and  coat.  A bit  of  fur  either  in 
white  or  pastel  shades  used  for  the  collar 
or  trimming  will  do  much  to  soften  the 
lines  of  the  face  or  figure.  The  hat  may 
carry  softer  lines  than  that  used  with  the 
sport  costume  for  morning  wear.  The  ma- 
terials for  afternoon  run  the  wide  range 
from  brilliantly  flowered  chiffons  to  the 
taffeta  plaids.  Here  the  selection  is  wide 
and  if  one  will  bear  in  mind  her  individu- 
ality, a costume  may  be  easily  created  which 
will  have  a most  pleasing  and  harmonious 
effect. 

The  fur  scarf  is  in  many  cases  a neces- 
sary adjunct  to  the  afternoon  ensemble. 
Foxes  come  in  a wide  range  of  colors  to 
suit  the  personality  of  the  wearer.  Indeed 


Delores  Del  Rio  becomingly  wears 
white  ermine  trimmed  with  white 
fox  for  evening. 


For  motoring  and  general  utility 
wear,  for  comfort  and  smartness, 
Pauline  Frederick  wears  this  silver 
American  Broadtail  coat  with  plati- 
num fox  trimming. 

they  are  an  indispensable  part  of  every 
woman’s  wardrobe  and  their  vogue  is  un- 
diminished. For  those  who  are  short  of 
stature  and  inclined  to  stoutness,  the  sable 
or  marten  is  more  to  be  preferred. 

The  combination  of  dinner  gown  and 
wrap  are  most  essential  for  the  popular 
clubs  or  house  parties.  The  gown  is  only 
complete  when  accompanied  by  a soft  lace 
wrap  or  cape  for  the  cool  of  the  evening. 
Chiffon  gowns  and  capes  are  always  prac- 
tical and  one  can  appear  in  a new  shade 
each  evening.  While  those  who  are  sus- 
ceptible to  the  chill  of  the  California  nights, 
capes  and  wraps  of  fur  have  a strong  ap- 
peal. And  rightly  so.  For  not  only  are 
they  becoming  but  they  give  a feeling  of 
warmth  and  satisfying  comfort  not  other- 
wise obtainable.  Royal  ermine  of  snowy 
whiteness,  usually  severely  plain,  some- 
times with  the  black  tails  lavishly  used  in 
the  linings  are  always  in  good  taste.  Car- 
acul and  broadtail  too  in  various  suitable 
shades  usually  trimmed  with  fox  or  other 
contrasting  fur  also  have  their  place  in  the 
mode.  Organdy,  taffeta  or  net,  becom- 
ingly designed,  are  some  of  the  enticing 
thoughts  for  spring. 

This,  indeed,  is  to  be  a spring  of  indi- 
viduality and  while  the  thought  and  selec- 
tion necessary  to  a perfect  wardrobe  may 
appear  a bit  terrifying  at  first  still  the  re- 
sult will  fully  justify  the  care  expended. 
Study  your  individual  figure,  bear  in  mind 
your  personality  and  make  your  selections 
accordingly. 


Angeleno  Decorated 

HAROLD  DEAN  CARSEY,  Holly- 
wood photographer  of  motion  picture 
folks,  for  the  fourth  year  in  succession  has 
been  granted  the  highest  award  at  the 
Royal  Pictorial  Salon  of  Sweden,  accord- 
ing to  word  received  from  his  European 
representative. 

The  grand  award  given  after  the  fourth 
year,  carries  with  it  an  invitation  to  visit 
Stockholm  and  there  photograph  the 
Swedish  royal  family.  Mr.  Carsey  expects 
to  leave  within  a fortnight,  closing  his 
Laurel  Canyon  studio  for  two  months. 

One  hundred  and  fifty  photographs  of 
motion  picture  celebrities  will  accompany 
Mr.  Carsey  to  Stockholm  and  there  be 
hung  in  a special  salon  to  which  the  award 
entitles  him. 

Carsey  hung  fourteen  portraits — two 
each  of  Bill  Hart  and  Joseph  Schildkraut 
and  one  each  of  John  Barrymore,  Clara 
Bow,  Anna  Q.  Nilsson,  Jetta  Goudal, 
Anita  Stewart,  Evelyn  Long,  Nazimova 
and  Donald  Keith — at  the  Royal  Salon. 
It  was  a portrait  of  Joseph  Schildkraut 
which  won  him  the  award. 

He  opened  his  Hollywood  studio  about 
a year  ago,  coming  here  from  New  York. 
While  operating  a studio  in  Greenwich 
Village  he  made  annual  trips  to  India, 
China  and  Japan  photographing  celebrities 
in  those  countries.  Previous  to  his  camera 
career  Carsey  was  a decorative  and  cos- 
tume designer  of  renown. 


Styles  may  come  and  go,  but  the 
charm  and  usefulness  of  the  cape  will 
always  keep  it  with  us.  This  one  is 
of  blond  caracul  trimmed  with  gol- 
den fox  and  just  fits  the  personality 
of  Claire  Windsor. 


19  26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


47 


Laura  La  Plante 

In  a hand-painted  af- 
ternoon gown  in  Greek 
motif  designed  by  Alice 
O’Neill;  an  unusually 
attractive  creation  of 
shell  pink  chiffon  and 
velvet,  hand  painted  in 
bronze  and  silver  and 
trimmed  with  moleskin 


48 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE 


DIRECTOR 


February 


A HOME  THAT 


WAS  DECORATED 


The  informal  good  taste  which 
makes  this  home  so  inviting  and 
livable  is  seen  in  every  corner  of 
every  room.  The  fireplace  group 
in  the  living  room  is  one  expres- 
sion of  it.  A portrait  of  an  old 
galleon  rocking  on  a sea  of  rich 
cerulean  blue  was  the  keynote  for 
the  color  scheme.  Two  little  love 
seats  in  softest  blue  velvet  make  a 
welcoming  gesture  to  the  fireside. 


The  other  end  of  the  living 
room — garden  view  window 
framed  by  hangings  of  blue, 
hand-blocked  linen  with  de- 
signs in  piquant  colors;  two 
handsome  floor  candlesticks 
and  two  congenial  chairs — 
one  in  deep  apricot  hand- 
woven  linen,  the  other  in 
black  and  henna  striped 


THIS  HOME  WAS  A RECENT 
COMMISSION  OF  BARKER 
BROS.’  STUDIOS  OF  INTERIOR 
DECORATION. 


moire. 


19  26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


49 


AND  FURNISHED  TO  BE  ENJOYED 


Glazed  chintz  hang- 
ings of  glorious  “ A?n - 
aryllis”  rose  are  the 
high  note  in  this  guest 
room,  which  is  a sun- 
ny, delightful  place. 
The  carpet  is  rose 
taupe  and  the  furniture 
walnut  of  a satiny, 
dull  finish. 


The  graciousness  and  dignity  of  Queen  Anne  furniture  are  especially 
appropriate  for  the  guest  room.  The  fine  lines,  soft  lustre  and  deli- 
cate antique  gold  decorations  lend  an  air  of  real  distinction.  The 
little  Louis  XVI  chair  with  its  needlepoint  covering  is  an  arsito- 

cratic  note. 


The  dining  room  is  in  distinct  but  pleasing 
contrast  with  the  rest  of  the  house,  as  a 
dining  room  has  a right  to  be.  The  red 
tile  floor  is  guiltless  of  rug  or  carpet.  Ital- 
i a n chairs  - v 
and  table, 
specially  de- 
signed, frat- 
ernize with 
Spanish 
side  board 
and  console 
which  are 
fine,  hancl- 
m a d e r e- 
productions 
of  old  pieces. 


50 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


, an 

^GEORGE  LANDY 


Ray  Leek,  first  president  of  the  Warn  pas  and  for  the  past 
two  years  general  manager  for  the  Annual  Frolic  and  Ball 
which  lias  now  become  a national  institution. 


ONLY  five  years  old, 
the  Wampas — more 
formally  designated 
as  the  Western  Associated 
Motion  Picture  Advertisers 
— has  already  grown  to  be 
an  important  factor,  not 
only  within  the  motion  pic- 
ture industry  but  among  the 
national  institutions  of  every 
description. 

It  is  based  on  a commu- 
nity of  ideas,  purposes,  poli- 
cies and  ambitions  of  the 
men  who  publicize  the  vari- 
ous factors  which  combine 
to  make  up  the  film  indus- 
try: producing  studios,  stars, 
directors  and  authors,  distri- 
bution organizations  and  the 
motion  picture  theatres. 

From  the  results  accom- 
plished by  the  Wampas 
members,  individually  and 
collectively,  this  group  of 
men  can  certainly  take  its 
place  among  the  leading  fac- 
tions which  have  definitely 
accomplished  great  things  in 
the  entire  history  of  the 
world.  Certainly  no  indus- 
try has  ever  grown  to  such 
tremendous  proportions  and, 
just  as  surely,  no  art  has 
ever  reached  such  a high 
stage  of  development  as  mo- 
tion pictures  have  achieved 
in  the  twenty  years  of  their 
existence  — and  it  has  been 
the  publicity  man  who  has  played  a big 
part  in  this  dual  progress. 

Through  publicity,  the  screen  has  not 
only  opened  a new  vista  of  entertainment 
for  the  mass  population  of  the  entire  world 
— it  has  a far  greater  accomplishment  to 
its  credit.  Through  the  films,  and  espe- 
cially through  the  publicity  connected  with 
pictures,  the  United  States  has  been  “sold” 
to  the  entire  civilized  world  as  a nation, 
and  the  benefits  therefrom  have  been  in- 
calculably tremendous,  not  only  from  the 
entertainment  angle,  but  also  in  the  in- 
dustrial, social  and  political  aspects. 

It  was  about  five  years  ago  that  seven 
directors  of  publicity  for  various  studios 
in  Southern  California  gathered  around  a 
dinner  table  at  one  of  the  local  hotels  to 
discuss  the  dignity  and  the  new  purposes 
of  their  profession.  It  was  at  this  gather- 
ing that  the  Wampas  was  born. 

It  is  a far  cry  from  the  hokum  press 
agentry  of  several  years  ago  to  the  efficient 
and  dignified  service  which  is  rendered  to 


the  people  of  the  world  through  existing 
newspaper  and  other  periodicals  by  the 
Wampas  and  other  publicity  men.  No 
longer  does  the  press  agent  try  to  foist  an 
unwelcome  idea  over  on  an  unsuspecting 
editor  or  represent  things  beyond  their 
actual  proportions.  Practically  every  Wam- 
pas member  has  real  newspaper  experience 
to  his  credit  and,  in  fact,  most  of  the  mem- 
bers of  this  organization  have  held  high 
posts  on  the  local  dailies.  A Wampa  knows 
what  the  neswpaper  wants  and  he  gives 
the  paper  news — not  just  statistical  infor- 
mation, but  live  stories  with  human  inter- 
est, legitimately  demanding  space  in  the 
periodicals  of  the  world. 

From  the  seven  men  who  sat  together  at 
that  semi-social  function  five  years  ago,  the 
Wampas  has  grown  until,  at  present,  its 
roster  includes  eighty-eight  active  members, 
thirteen  associate  members  and  eight  hon- 
orary members.  Of  the  active  members, 
eight  are  working  in  cities  outside  of 
Southern  California  and  three  are  in  Eu- 


rope, but  all  of  them  relig- 
iously retain  their  Wampas 
membership.  The  honorary 
members  include  several  of 
the  most  important  men  in 
the  entire  film  world  and 
every  one  of  them  treasures 
his  membership  card  as  a re- 
ward for  meritorious  service. 
Several  other  members  have 
left  the  publicity  depart- 
ments to  enter  the  producing 
field  in  pictures,  and  a num- 
ber of  them  have  risen  to  the 
highest  ranks ; these  men 
also  religiously  keep  up  their 
Wampas  memberships  and 
attend  as  often  as  their  large 
interests  permit. 

The  presiding  office  has 
been  occupied  in  turn  by 
Ray  H.  Leek,  Arch  Reeve, 
Joe  Jackson,  Harry  Wilson 
and  Harry  Brand,  the  pres- 
ent incumbent.  To  these 
men  should  go  much  of  the 
credit  for  their  untiring  ef- 
forts and  leadership  in  serv- 
ing as  standard  bearers  for 
the  Wampas’  perennial  cam- 
paign to  elevate  the  profes- 
sion of  motion  picture  pub- 
licity. 

Shortly  after  the  forma- 
tion of  the  organization, 
there  was  expressed  a spon- 
taneous desire  on  the  part  of 
the  stars,  producers,  direc- 
tors and  other  executives  to 
make  public  admission  of  the  service  of  the 
publicity  men,  and  it  was  from  this  spirit 
that  the  idea  of  the  Wampas  Frolic  and 
Ball  was  evolved.  The  first  of  this  series 
of  annual  entertainments,  which  have  be- 
come universally  conceded  to  be  the  lead- 
ing cinematic  social  events  in  California’s 
calendar,  was  held  in  the  main  dining  room 
of  the  Ambassador  Hotel.  This  room  has 
a capacity  of  3000  and  it  was  jammed  to 
the  doors!  Ever  since  this  first  affair,  the 
Wampas  has  been  faced  by  the  necessity 
of  securing  a larger  edifice  to  accommodate 
its  co-workers  in  the  film  field  and  the 
members  of  the  public  who  wish  to  attend 
the  Frolics. 

The  second  Frolic  served  to  open  the 
then  new  Warner  Brothers  studio  on  Sun- 
set Boulevard,  where  the  attendance  ex- 
ceeded 6000  persons.  The  third  year  found 
the  Wampas  faced  with  a problem  regard- 
ing late  dancing,  at  that  time  the  civic 
dilemma  in  Los  Angeles,  and  after  receiv- 
ing invitations  from  numerous  municipali- 


1 926 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


51 


Los  Angeles  New  Shrine  Civic  Auditorium,  where  the  Wampas  will  hold  their  fifth  Annual  Frolic,  February  4. 


ties  throughout  the  United  States,  the  pub- 
licity men  finally  accepted  the  offer  per- 
sonally tendered  at  a Wampas  meeting  by 
the  municipal  authorities  of  San  Francisco. 
Accordingly,  the  Frolic  was  held  in  the 
Bay  City,  at  its  Civic  Auditorium,  where 
the  attendance  reached  about  8000 — almost 
half  as  many  being  turned  away  when  the 
fire  department  closed  the  doors  to  prevent 
excessive  crowding. 

This  third  Frolic  did  far  more  than 
merely  change  the  dance  law  in  Los  An- 
geles— it  served  to  cement  the  friendly  re- 
lations between  San  Francisco  and  its  sister 
city  in  Southern  California  as  no  other 
event  had  done.  It  was  the  occasion  for 
the  greatest  hegira  which  has  ever  occurred 
in  the  motion  picture  world : Seventy  stars 
of  the  first  magnitude,  accompanied  by 
Wampas  members  and  their  guests,  as  well 
as  hundreds  of  other  Angelenos,  filled  the 
three  special  trains  which  took  the  party 
north.  Every  California  city  within  200 
miles  of  San  Francisco  sent  official  dele- 
gations to  this  Frolic,  giving  it  a genuinely 
state-wide  flavor. 

Last  year  the  Wampas  again  had  to  face 
the  necessity  of  a larger  auditorium  to  ac- 
commodate its  potential  guests  at  the 
Frolic.  Fortunately  the  Ambassador  had 
erected  such  an  edifice  in  its  grounds,  and 
so  that  was  the  scene  of  the  fourth  Frolic. 
This  year  the  same  problem  also  arose,  and 
we  are  very  fortunate  in  having  the  mag- 
nificent Shrine  Civic  Auditorium  to  house 
our  guests  of  that  evening. 

For  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the 
Wampas,  we  have  been  able  to  offer  not 
only  a mardi  gras  show,  consisting  of 
general  dancing  interspersed  by  numerous 
elaborate  presentations;  this  year  we  have 
taken  advantage  of  the  unparalleled  oppor- 


tunities of  the  Shrine  stage  and  the  tre- 
mendous ballroom  to  offer  a twin  enter- 
tainment, of  which  the  details  are  narrated 
elsewhere. 

The  publicity  men  who  have  been  re- 
sponsible for  the  elevation  to  stardom  of 
practically  every  screen  celebrity,  instituted 
an  official  Wampas  custom  just  before  the 
first  Frolic,  which  has  continued  every 
year  and  which  we  expect  to  practice  an- 
nually indefinitely.  Each  year  the  Wam- 
pas selects  the  thirteen  most  promising 
young  leading  women  of  the  screen,  based 
on  a careful  study  of  their  talents,  achieve- 
ments to  date  and  future  probabilities. 
Hitherto,  we  have  called  these  girls  Baby 
Stars.  Starting  this  year,  we  are  calling 
them  “Stars  of  1926,”  because  the  Wam- 
pas is  convinced  that  these  girls  will 
achieve  the  heights  of  stardom  during  the 
calendar  year  in  which  they  are  selected. 

The  W ampas  selections  for  each  year 
have  been  as  follows : 

1922:  Helen  Ferguson,  Bessie  Love, 
Colleen  Moore,  Mary  Philbin,  Pauline 
Starke,  Lila  Lee,  Jacqueline  Logan, 
Maryon  Aye,  Louise  Lorraine,  Kathryn 
McGuire,  Lois  Wilson,  Claire  Windsor 
and  Patsy  Ruth  Miller. 

1923:  Eleanor  Boardman,  Pauline 

Garon,  Laura  LaPlante,  Virginia  Browne 
Faire,  Derelys  Purdue,  Ethel  Shannon, 
Margaret  Leahy,  Dorothy  Devore,  Betty 
Francisco,  Kathleen  Key,  Helen  Lynch, 
Jobyna  Ralston  and  Evelyn  Brent. 

1924:  Clara  Bow,  Blanche  Mehaffey, 
Margaret  Morris,  Hazel  Keener,  Lucille 
Rickson,  Gloria  Grey,  Elinor  Fair,  Dor- 
othy Mackaill,  Carmelita  Geraghty, 
Julanne  Johnston,  Lillian  Rich,  Alberta 
Vaughn  and  Ruth  Hiatt. 


1925:  Betty  Arlen,  Violet  Avon,  Olive 
Borden,  Anne  Cornwall,  Ena  Gregory, 
Madeline  Hurlock,  Natalie  Joyce,  Joan 
Meredith,  June  Marlow,  Evelyn  Pierce, 
Dorothy  Revier,  Duane  Thompson  and 
Lola  Todd. 

Last  year  the  Wampas  went  one  step 
further:  it  instituted  a Screen  Achievement 
Trophy,  which  was  presented  at  the  last 
Frolic  and  will  be  presented  at  the  next, 
and  annually  henceworth.  The  award  is 
given  to  the  girl  of  the  last  four  groups  of 
W ampas  selections  who  has  made  the 
greatest  professional  strides  since  her  nom- 
ination. The  girl  is  selected  by  a group 
of  judges  consisting  of  the  editors  of  the 
national  fan  magazines,  the  trade  papers 
within  the  motion  picture  industry  and 
the  film  editors  of  the  local  newspapers. 

Last  year  the  cup  was  donated  by  Ar- 
thur J.  Klein  and  was  presented  to  Colleen 
Moore.  This  year  the  great  silver  cup 
has  been  donated  by  the  Paul  G.  Hoffman 
Company,  Inc. 

Even  in  an  industry  which  has  itself 
been  termed  an  infant,  but  whose  growth 
has  been  the  most  phenomenal  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  world,  the  development  of  the 
Wampas  has  been  an  outstanding  phenom- 
enon. To  list  its  achievements,  its  chari- 
ties and  its  other  activities  within  the  mo- 
tion picture  industry  would  sound  like 
braggadocio.  But  they  have  elevated  it  to 
an  institution  of  deserved  national  promi- 
nence, known  wherever  motion  pictures  are 
shown,  and  honored  and  respected  univer- 
sally. 

In  elevating  the  dignity  of  the  profes- 
sion whose  mouthpiece  it  is,  the  Wampas 
has  served  the  entire  film  field  and,  through 
this  service,  it  has  made  a distinct  contri- 
bution to  the  world’s  progress. 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


DEEP  in  the  hearts  of  us  all  there 
linger  memories  that  are  treas- 
ured for  their  association  with 
days  that  are  gone.  No  matter  how  blase 
we  may  become  in  later  years  it  is  with  a 
delicious  sense  of  reminiscence  that  we  turn 
back  the  pages  of  memory’s  book  and  live 
again  amid  scenes  and  friends  of  yesteryear. 

No  more  vivid  illustration  of  this  truism 
can  I conceive  than  that  which  was  pre- 
sented at  The  Writers  on  the  evening  of 
January  21st  when  Commodore  J.  Stuart 
Blackton,  incidental  to  the  previewing  of 
his  latest  production  “Bride  of  the  Storm” 
brought  back  to  the  film  colony  of  Holly- 
wood memories  of  the  Vitagraph  days  of 
a decade  and  a half  ago.  Mere  words  on 
a sheet  of  paper  can  not  begin  to  do  justice 
to  the  heart  thrills  of  that  evening  as  on 
the  silver  sheet  of  the  club  were  flashed 
scenes  and  faces  dear  to  everyone  who  fol- 
lowed the  motion  picture  during  its  early 
days. 

Commodore  Blackton  can  always  be 
counted  upon  to  do  the  beautiful  thing,  to 
inject  the  delicate  note  of  sentiment,  but 
I doubt  if  he  has  ever  done  anything  that 
has  given  greater  pleasure  to  the  film  folks 
than  his  presentation  of  “Reminiscences  of 
1915.”  It  was  in  truth  a work  of  love, 
for  long  hours,  extending  over  weeks  and 
even  months,  had  been  expended  by  the 
“Guv’nor”  and  his  son  in  digging  out  of 
the  film  archives  of  the  old  Vitagraph 
studio  (now  a part  of  the  Warner  Bros. 
West  Coast  Studios)  scenes  from  Vita- 
graph productions  showing  the  old  favorites 
of  the  screen  as  thev  were  in  those  days  of 
1910  and  1915. 

And  then,  when  this  film  had  been  com- 
pletely assembled,  the  Commodore  did  the 
most  beautiful  thing  of  all.  Searching 
throughout  the  film  colony  of  Hollywood 
he  secured  the  addresses  of  every  member 
of  what  he  affectionately  terms  the  Vita- 
graph Alumni  and  to  each  he  sent  a per- 
sonal invitation  to  be  his  guest  on  that 
evening.  The  response  to  that  invitation  is 
indicative  of  the  love  which  the  old  guard 
of  the  films  bear  to  him  who  in  those  days, 
was  their  chief. 

Tears  were  very  near  the  surface  as  old 
friends  and  partners  of  the  films  met, 
some  of  them  after  intervals  of  years,  in 
the  assembly  rooms  of  the  club  prior  open- 
ing of  the  doors  leading  to  the  large  dining 
room  in  which  screen  and  stage  presenta- 
tions are  made.  I am  perfectly  willing  to 
admit  that  there  was  a queer  tugging 
around  my  own  heart  and  that  my  glasses 
fogged  up  unexpectedly  as  I watched  these 
favorites  of  yesterday  reliving  old  memo- 
ries. And  at  no  time  was  this  feeling 
stronger  in  me  than  as  I watched  Kate 


Price  meeting,  amid  such  circumstances 
when  memories  were  so  keenly  alive,  those 
with  whom  she  was  so  closely  associated  in 
the  older  days.  With  the  emotionalism  of 
her  Irish  ancestry,  Miss  Price  made  no  at- 
tempt to  hide  her  feelings  as  laughing  and 
crying  she  greeted  first  one  and  then 
another,  and  was  greeted  with  an  affection 
indicative  of  her  place  in  the  hearts  of  all. 

Commodore  Blackton  had  arranged  his 
program  with  the  true  instincts  of  show- 
manship, opening  with  an  amusing  comedy 
of  the  vintage  of  1910,  bearing  the  intrigu- 
ing title  “The  Boy,  The  Bust  and  the 
Bath,”  and  featuring  a cast  composed  of 
Florence  Lawrence,  Bill  Shea,  Hector 
Dion  and  Buster  Blackton,  then  a mis- 
chievous boy  of  nine. 

The  quaint  costumes  and  sets  of  that 
little  comedy,  not  much  longer  than  its 
title,  created  just  the  right  atmosphere  into 
which  blended  the  presentation  of  “Remi- 
niscenes of  1915.”  The  picture  opened 
with  a view  of  the  Vitagraph  offices  in 
Brooklyn  showing  Commodore  Blackton 
and  A.  E.  Smith  directing  the  early  des- 
tinies of  what  may  in  all  verity  be  con- 
sidered the  “cradle  of  the  American 
screen.”  And  then  came  bits  from  nearly 
a hundred  productions  showing  the  players 
of  the  Vitagraph  Stock  Company  as  it  was 
then  composed. 

While  we  laughed  again  as  we  had  in 
former  days  at  his  inimitible  drollery  there 
was  a suspicious  break  in  our  voices,  a 
dimming  of  the  eyes,  as  John  Bunny 
stepped  forth  from  behind  the  curtain  of 
the  past  and  greeted  us  from  the  screen. 
It  was  all  so  real  that  the  gates  of  time 
rolled  back,  and  we  forgot  the  superfea- 
tures of  today.  The  little  bit  of  comedy 
that  followed,  in  which  Bunny  and  Flora 
Finch  appeared  in  their  familiar  roles, 
brought  another  flood  of  memories.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Sidney  Drew  struck  an  equally 
responsive  chord  as  we  saw  them  once 
more  enacting  the  subtle  comedy  sequences 
that  endeared  them  to  the  hearts  of  the  film 
world  of  a decade  ago. 

It  was  with  a distinct  thrill  that  I saw 
again  Mary  Maurice,  whose  mother  roles 
has  so  firmly  enshrined  her  in  our  memo- 
ries. And  how  reminiscent  it  was  of  those 
early  days  that  we  saw  Maurice  Costello, 
dimpled  Lillian  Walker,  Arline  Pretty, 
Edith  Storey,  Mary  Anderson,  Wally 
Reid,  and  the  host  of  others  who  were 
such  favorites  then  and  later.  Clara  Kim- 
ball Young  in  a typical  scene,  Anita  Stew- 
art and  Earle  Williams;  Marc  McDer- 


mott, Harry  Morey,  Ned  Finley,  James 
Morrison  and  Hughie  Mack.  The  ap- 
pearance of  each  was  greeted  with  en- 
thusiasm and  a momentary  buzz  of  voices, 
as  irrepressible  reminiscences  demanded  ut- 
terance. Many  who  were  present  saw 
themselves  at  the  outset  of  their  careers. 
Dolores  and  Helen  Costello,  now  climbing 
to  stardom  as  belles  of  the  screen,  were 
seen  with  Bobby  and  Helen  Connelly  in 
juvenile  roles. 

Then  there  were,  present  on  the  screen, 
if  not  in  person,  Rose  Tapley,  William 
Shea,  Florence  Turner,  Patsy  De  Forrest, 
George  Holt,  Van  Dyke  Brooke,  L.  Roger 
Lytton,  Lucille  Lee  Stewart,  Templar 
Saxe,  Leah  Baird,  Evart  Overton,  Ralph 
Ince,  Charles  Richman,  Corinne  Griffith, 
Charles  Kent,  Hector  Dion,  Dorothy 
Kelly,  Edward  Phillips,  Louise  Beaudet, 
Robert  Gaillord,  Don  Cameron,  Harry 
Northrup,  Eulalie  Jensen,  E.  K.  Lincoln, 
Alice  Joyce,  Billie  Billings,  Naomi  Chil- 
ders, Wilfrid  North,  E.  H.  Sothern,  Wal- 
ter Grail,  Florence  Lawrence,  Norma 
Talmadge,  Julia  S wayne  Gordon,  Anne 
Schaefer,  William  Duncan,  Josephine 
Earle,  Anders  Randolph,  Denton  Vane, 
Edna  May,  Antonio  Moreno,  Peggy  Hy- 
land, Jewell  Hunt  and  Katherine  Lewis. 

As  a most  entertaining  revelation  of  the 
strides  that  have  in  truth  been  made  in 
film  production  since  those  days  the  Com- 
modore then  gave  us  a typical  drama  fea- 
turing Helene  Costello  as  “the  little  child 
who  led  them,”  Louise  Beaudet  and  Don- 
ald Hall.  In  its  day  this  production,  the 
title  of  which  I didn’t  note  carefully 
enough  to  remember,  was  an  intense,  dra- 
matic thriller.  One  of  those  pictures  that 
tore  at  your  heart  strings  and  made  the 
sob  sisters  sob.  As  the  story  unfolded  it 
struck  a responsive  chord  in  my  memory 
and  I recalled  the  time  when  I first  saw  it 
and  how  I was  thrilled  by  its  pathos,  by 
the  sentiment  of  its  titles  and  the  intensity 
of  its  dramatic  structure.  Yet,  when  I 
saw  it  that  night  at  The  Writers,  I 
laughed  as  I haven’t  laughed  in  a long 
while.  It  was  excruciatingly  funny.  The 
titles  were  a veritable  scream.  The  exag- 
gerated action,  so  typical  of  those  days, 
even  to  the  inevitable  chase  sequence, 
seemed  so  ridiculous  that  I literally  howled 
with  the  rest  of  the  audience.  Verily 
times  have  changed  and  the  films  have  ad- 
vanced in  technique,  in  realism  and  in  ar- 
tistry. 

Commodore  Blackton  had  planned  his 
program  well.  Nothing  could  have  fitted 
us  for  the  preview  of  his  latest  picture 
more  admirably  than  that  old-time  “dram- 
mer,”  and  when,  following  his  little 
(Continued,  on  Page  67) 


1 9 26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


53 


Emile  chautard,  who  a few 

years  ago  was  one  of  the  industry’s 
foremost  directors,  has  been  engaged  to  por- 
tray the  leading 
character  role  i n 
“P  a r i s at  Mid- 
night”, Frances 
Marion’s  new  Met- 
ropolitan picture, 
based  upon  the  Bal- 
zac classic,  “Pere 
Goriot”. 

Chautard’s  fame 
in  this  country  has 
been  confined  to  di- 
recting, for  although 
he  was  formerly  one  of  the  most  popular 
actors  in  France,  he  has  never  appeared  on 
either  the  stage  or  screen  in  America.  Here 
he  is  best  known  for  his  direction  of  many 
of  the  screen  successes  in  which  Pauline 
Frederick,  Elsie  Ferguson  and  Alice  Brady 
were  starred. 

In  France,  Chautard  was  leading  man 
for  the  great  tragedienne,  Mme.  Rejane, 
for  nearly  twenty  years  and  achieved  parti- 
cular fame  for  his  portrayal  of  Napoleon 
in  “Mme.  Sans  Gene”.  Later  he  was  di- 
rector of  the  Royal  Theatre  in  Brussels  and 
still  later  he  created  the  title  role  in  “Alias 
Jimmy  Valentine”  in  Paris. 

Thirteen  years  ago  in  Paris  Chautard 
directed  a screen  version  of  “The  Merry 
Widow”  in  which  Maurice  Tourneur  por- 
trayed a leading  role. 

* * * 

Marshall  neilan’S  acquisition 

by  Paramount  forms  one  of  the  most 
interesting  news  angles  of  the  month  in 


that  it  promises  theatre  goers  a series  of 
productions  combining  Neilan’s  unfailing 
entertainment  skill  with  the  producing 
company’s  extensive  facilities. 

Neilan  has  signed  a long-term  contract 
with  Paramount,  under  the  terms  of  which 
he  will  make  his  productions  at  his  own 
studio  at  Edendale,  California,  backed  by 
the  facilities  and  resources  of  the  producing 
organization  in  Lasky  Studio. 

The  first  story  Mr.  Neilan  will  produce 
under  the  new  arrangement  is  now  under 
way  in  the  scenario  department,  and  its 
production  probably  will  start  near  the 
middle  of  February.  It  will  be  released 
during  the  fall  of  1926.  Following  this 
production,  he  will  direct  Betty  Bronson  in 
a picture  of  the  type  that  made  him  famous 
as  the  director  of  many  of  Mary  Pick- 
ford’s  most  successful  offerings. 

* * 

ANTICIPATING  a revival  of  South 
Sea  Island  pictures  in  the  not  distant 
future,  Harry  Oliver,  art  director  for 
Mary  Pickford,  is 
taking  advantage  of 
the  Pickford-Fair- 
banks  round  - the  - 
world  tour  to  get  in 
a little  sightseeing 
himself  and  at  the 
same  time  pick  up 
at  first  hand  accu- 
rate data  concerning 
some  of  the  out-of- 
the-way  places  of 
the  world.  Accord- 
ingly, accompanied  by  Mrs.  Oliver  and  his 
daughter  Amy,  he  sailed  January  27  on  the 


steamer  Tahiti  for  Papeete  where  he  will 
rest  and  paint,  transferring  to  canvas  the 
exotic  beauties  of  the  southern  seas.  The 
Olivers  plan  to  be  away  from  Hollywood 
some  six  months. 

* * * 

MAR  YON  AYE,  dainty  actress  of  the 
stage  and  screen,  appears  as  the  lead- 
ing feminine  role  in  “Kosher  Kitty  Kelly,” 
a stage  offering  in 
San  Francisco. 

She  was  playing 
in  Colleen  Moore’s 
“Irene”  at  the  time 
the  stage  role  was 
offered  her,  and  the 
opening  of  the  play 
was  held  off  for  a 
week,  after  a long- 
distance telephone 
consultation  with 
the  play  producers, 
in  order  to  allow  Miss  Aye  to  finish  her 
screen  role. 

A coach  was  sent  to  Los  Angeles  to  whip 
Miss  Aye  into  the  “Kosher  Kitty  Kelly” 
part  between  scenes  of  Miss  Moore’s  pro- 
duction, and  through  the  efforts  of  Alfred 
E.  Green,  who  is  directing  the  film,  the 
actress  was  released  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  caught  the  earliest  train  for  San  Fran- 
cisco. 

Miss  Aye  scored  a hit  in  San  Francisco 
some  time  ago  when  she  played  “White 
Collars”  there,  and  perhaps  it  was  this  role 
that  led  to  the  new  one.  She  will  come 
to  Los  Angeles  in  “Kosher  Kitty  Kelly” 
before  or  shortly  after  this  item  comes  off 
the  press. 


54 


THE 


MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


COMMODORE  J.  Stuart  Blackton’s 
next  production  for  Warner  Brothers 
will  be  “Hell  Bent  for  Heaven,”  Thatcher 
Hughes’  Pulitzer  prize  play,  which  has 
been  one  of  the  season’s  footlight  sensa- 
tions from  both  ar- 
tistic and  financial 
viewpoints.  The 
play  is  being 
adapted  for  the 
screen  by  Marian 
Constance,  and  pro- 
d u c t i o n will  be 
started  as  soon  as 
the  shooting  script 
is  completed. 

“Hell  Bent  for 
Heaven”  will  be 
known  as  a Blackton  Production  and  one 
of  the  season’s  big  specials  from  Warner 
Brothers.  The  film  rights  of  the  play  were 
purchased  expressly  for  Commodore  Black- 
ton.  The  play  had  a long  run  in  New 
York  and  has  appeared  in  Los  Angeles, 
where  it  played  for  four  weeks. 

* * * 

ABILITY  to  swim  came  in  handy  to 
L Bebe  Daniels  and  Ricardo  Cortez 
while  filming  some  of  the  spectacular 
scenes  of  “Volcano,”  a Paramount  produc- 
tion in  which  they  play  featured  roles. 

For  the  sake  of 
realism,  they  were 
not  permitted  to 
swim  in  smooth  wa- 
ter, but  in  the  sort 
of  rough  water  that 
the  technical  direc- 
tors thought  would 
be  stirred  up  by  vol- 
canic activity  and 
earthquake.  More- 
over, a rain  of 
ashes  and  debris  fell 
all  around  them  during  the  process  of  film- 
ing those  particular  scenes. 

Wallace  Beery,  Arthur  Edmund  Carew 
and  Dale  Fuller  also  play  featured  roles 
in  “Volcano,”  which  is  a William  K. 
H oward  production  scenarized  by  Bernard 
McConville. 

# # * 

THE  golf  champion  of  the  Christie 
studio  lot — a studio  of  golfers,  by  the 
way — has  hung  up  an  enviable  record  for 
his  competitors  to 
shoot  at,  and  it  will 
probably  require 
considerable  shoot- 
ing to  bring  this 
particular  record 
down.  Yes,  it’s  Neal 
Burns,  and  his  feat 
was  to  make  the 
sixth  hole  at  the 
Lakeside  Club,  a 
two-hundred  - yard, 
par-three  hole,  in 
two — not  once,  but  four  consecutive  times. 
There  were  witnesses  other  than  the  caddy, 
of  course ! 


It  is  said  that  the  record  is  unique  inso- 
far as  local  courses  go.  If,  however,  it  is 
open  to  contest.  Burns  has  agreed  to  settle 
the  matter  with  any  challenging  studio 
golfer  on  any  tee  or  green. 

Burns  is  one  of  the  golf  stars  of  the 
Christie-Metropolitan  team,  which  has  only 
been  defeated  once  in  meeting  other  studios. 
The  team  is  composed  of  Charles  Christie, 
Neal  Burns,  A.  C.  Cadwalader,  Jack 
Noble,  Jack  Cunningham  and  George 
Melford. 

* * # 

PART  of  the  atmosphere  that  is  going  to 
be  one  of  the  appealing  features  of 
“The  Volga  Boatman”  is  to  be  supplied  by 
Vasili  Kalmykoff,  formerly  a line  officer 
in  “The  White  Army”  of  Admiral  Kol- 
chak. Kalmykoff  has  been  added  to  the 
technical  staff  of  the 
second  personally 
directed  Cecil  de 
Mille  offering  for 
Producers’  Distrib- 
uting Corporation. 

He  speaks  no 
English,  working 
entirely  through  in- 
terpreters. Theo- 
dore Kosloff,  Rus- 
sian dancer  and  ac- 
tor, and  Kalmykoff 
will  work  together  on  technical  points  con- 
nected with  the  filming  of  this  love  story 
of  a rough,  colorful  Volga  boatman  and  a 
gently  reared  aristocrat.  The  background 
action  of  the  story  is  that  of  the  Russian 
revolution  and  social  overthrow. 

One  of  Kalmykoff’s  tasks  is  the  training 
of  Victor  Varconi,  who  appears  in  the  pro- 
duction as  a prince  in  the  White  army'. 
Other  featured  players  who  appear  in  the 
story  are  William  Boyd,  Elinor  Fair,  Julia 
Fay'e,  Theodore  Kosloff  and  Robert 
Edeson.  * * * 

THE  affiliation  between  Universal  and 
the  UFA  company  of  Berlin  by  Carl 
Laemmle  will,  it  is  said,  result  in  a whole- 
sale transference  and  exchange  of  stars 
from  Berlin  to  Universal  City  and  vice 
versa. 

There  are  many  Universal  stars  who 
are  quite  as  popular  in  Europe  as  they  are 
in  America,  and  these,  probably,  will  be 
sent  to  UFA  studios  for  parts  in  the  Ger- 
man pictures,  according  to  advices  from 
Mr.  Laemmle.  Mary  Philbin  is  being 
considered  as  the  “Marguerite”  for  the  big 
production  of  “Faust”  which  UFA  is 
planning,  with  Emil  Jennings  as  Mephisto. 
Laura  La  Plante,  Virginia  Valli,  Reginald 
Denny,  Jean  Hersholt  and  many  other 
stars  may  be  sent  abroad  for  one  or  several 
pictures. 

In  return,  Mr.  Laemmle  plans  to  import 
several  stars  and  directors  of  the  UFA 
company  for  work  at  Universal  City.  He 
has  already  arranged  to  bring  Andre  Mat- 
toni,  a Czecho-Slovakian  actor,  and  E.  A. 
Dupont,  a noted  German  director,  to  Hol- 
lywood, and  future  exchanges  may  involve 


such  Continental  stars  as  Emil  Jannings, 
Werner  Krauss,  Lya  de  Putti,  Zenia  Des- 

ni,  Lil  Dagovar,  Conrad  Zeidt  and  others. 

* * * 

ON  THE  First  National  lot  Harry 
Harry  Langdon  is  to  be  found  in  the 
midst  of  his  first  feature-length  comedy 
for  that  organization.  In  addition  to  em- 
barking on  a new  venture,  Harry  is  dem- 
onstrating what  the  artist  can  accomplish 
with  a bit  of  make- 
up, particularly  in 
changing  the  size  of 
the  eyes. 

The  usual  thing 
in  making  up  the 
ey'es  is  to  rim  them 
with  black,  so  that 
they  will  appear 
larger.  Langdon 
rims  his  eyes  with 
white  in  order  to 
accomplish  just  the 
opposite  result.  The  white,  he  finds,  makes 
his  eyes  appear  much  smaller  on  the  screen 
than  they  really  are.” 

“I  wear  white  makeup  around  the  eyes 
not  only  to  make  them  look  smaller,  but 
to  give  a peculiar  sheepish  expression,”  says 
Mr.  Langdon.  “This  helps  greatly  with 
my  pantomimic  imitation  of  the  timorous 
and  bashful  lover.” 

In  order  to  enlarge  and  deepen  the  ex- 
pression of  the  eyes,  Mr.  Langdon  advo- 
cates the  use  of  red  makeup  rather  than 
black.  For  giving  an  impression  of  dull- 
ness to  the  eyes,  he  uses  green  color  around 
them.  The  white  makeup  is  being  used 
throughout  his  present  feature,  which  is 
now  in  the  seventh  week  of  production. 
The  story  resulted  from  an  original  idea 
of  Langdon’s,  and  is  being  directed  by 

Harry  Edwards. 

* * * 

TWO  very  fat  and  very  serious-faced 
comedians  of  the  screen  shook  hands 
on  Hollywood  Boulevard  and  wandered 
into  a drug  store  to 
celebrate  the  chance 
meeting  with  a 
drink  a la  Volstead. 

Walter  Hiers  sat 
down  at  the  coun- 
ter, but  Ned  A. 

Sparks  refused  to 
do  so,  even  at  Wal- 
ter’s pressing  invi- 
tation. 

“Can’t!”  he 
smiled.  “I’ve  been 
learning  to  ice  skate.” 

“What’s  that  got  to  do  with — ” began 
Hiers.  Then,  remembering  when  he  had 
first  learned  to  skate,  he  stood  up  and  the 
two  comedians  drank  to  the  good  old  days 

of  the  high  bar  and  the  footrail — standing. 
# * * 

A MAN  who  lost  his  memory  during 
the  war  and  has  since  been  trying  to 
find  someone  who  knows  him,  has  been 
given  a position  at  Universal  Studios  by 
Acting  General  Manager  Harry  MacRae. 


19  26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


55 


The  name  by  which  he  is  now  known  is 
Jerry  Talbot.  Talbot  has  conducted  a 
world-wide  search  to  find  people  who  know 
him,  putting  his  picture  into  American 
and  foreign  publications.  He  has  an  accu- 
rate memory  of  the  events  of  the  war  and 
remembers  the  unit,  the  Sixth  Marines,  in 
which  he  served.  Several  buddies  he  has 
encountered  from  that  outfit  knew  him  but 
could  not  recall  his  name. 

Talbot  only  remembers  the  past  18 
months  of  his  life  since  the  war,  coming 
to  himself  in  the  Veterans’  Bureau  Hos- 
pital at  Palo  Alto.  He  retains  absolutely 
no  memory  of  his  life  before  the  war.  He 
seems  to  be  of  French  descent,  is  about 
thirty-five  and  fought  in  the  battle  of  Bois 
de  Belleau.  He  also  remembers  the  battle 
of  Chateau  Thierry  hazily,  and  believes 
that  the  wound  which  caused  his  loss  of 
memory  was  sustained  there. 

Seventy-five  men  of  his  outfit  were  killed 
at  Chateau  Thierry  and  he  believes  he  is 
listed  as  one  of  these,  but  an  attempt  to 
trace  down  the  names  and  relatives  of  these 
men  has  proved  futile.  The  American 
Legion  is  at  present  working  on  the  prob- 
lem of  tracing  his  identity. 

Talbot’s  work  at  Universal  is  in  the 
technical  department,  and  he  will  also  do 
extra  work  in  pictures  in  the  hope  that 
some  friend  will  recognize  him  when  the 
films  are  distributed  all  over  the  world. 

* * * 

(4TV/IISS  DE  LA  MOTTE,”  said  a 
1*1  Hollywood  newsboy  to  Margue- 
rite, “I  gotta  kid  brother  who  never  seen 
a movie.  You’re  in  a show  up  the  street; 
will  you  gimme  the 
price  of  a couple  of 
ducats?” 

Touched  by  the 
thought  of  a child 
who  had  never  seen 
a motion  picture, 
the  star  handed  the 
urchin  a dollar.  As 
an  afterthought,  she 
asked:  “When  are 

you  going  to  take 
him  to  the  show?” 

“I  ain’t  gonna  take  him,”  giggled  the 
boy,  having  removed  himself  to  a safe  dis- 
tance. “Em  gonna  take  me  girl.  Me  kid 
brother  what  ain’t  seen  a movie  is  just  five 
weeks  old.” 

Miss  De  La  Motte  believes  that  such  a 
good  joke  on  herself  is  worth  the  dollar 
invested. 

* * * 

A HOLIDAY  that  cost  thirty  thousand 
dollars ! 

That  was  the  result  of  a bit  of  figuring 
done  by  Edwin  Carewe,  producer-director 
for  First  National  Productions,  when  he 
went  over  his  expense  list  for  Christmas 
week. 

It  chanced  that  he  was  starting  “Heirs 
Apparent,”  a production  featuring  Lloyd 
Hughes  and  Mary  Astor.  Christmas  day 


would  break  right  into  the  busiest  part  of 
his  schedule.  But  he  decided  that  Christ- 
mas must  be  observed  regardless,  and  al- 
though it  cost  him  so  much  money,  he  now 
feels  repaid  by  the  added  enthusiasm  of  his 
cast  and  production  staff,  an  enthusiasm 
which  may  make  the  work  go  so  rapidly 
that  a good  deal  more  than  the  thirty 
thousand  dollars  will  be  saved. 

The  losses  had  to  be  figured  on  set  rent- 
als, salaries,  the  rent  of  equipment  and 
many  miscellaneous  items  that  enter  into 
film  bookkeeping.  “Heirs  Apparent”  is  to 
be  Carewe’s  first  offering  for  1926. 

* * * 

ACCORDING  to  Cecil  de  Mille,  95 
2 \ per  cent  of  the  inexperienced  players 
who  appear  on  the  screen  or  try  to  break 
into  pictures  depend  too  much  on  facial 
expression  in  their  pantomime,  or  “act  all 
over  the  place  and 
smother  their  dra- 
matic points  by  an 
abundance  of  i 1 1 - 
chosen  gestures.” 

De  Mille  speaks 
not  only  with  the 
authority  of  a great 
director,  but  as  the 
discoverer  of  much 
talent  that  now  oc- 
c u p i e s prominent 
places  in  the  screen 
limelight.  He  discovered  and  trained  such 
stars  as  Gloria  Swanson,  Bebe  Daniels, 
Leatrice  Joy,  Rod  La  Rocque  and  Thomas 
Meighan. 

“The  accomplished  artist  is  one  whose 
hands  are  trained  to  help  and  not  to  hin- 
der. The  best  facial  expression  is  helpless 
without  thoughtful  pantomime  with  the 
hands,”  he  maintains. 

“Girls  beat  men  at  this  phase  of  film 
work.  The  feminine  habit  of  ‘talking  with 
the  hands’  is  a distinct  asset,  when  used 
with  intelligence  and  discretion.  Unfor- 
tunately, through  self-consciousness,  many 
girls  overdo  gesture.  Men,  conversely,  go 
to  opposite  extremes  and  have  to  be  trained 
from  ‘woodenness’  into  graceful  use  of 
their  extremities. 

“William  Boyd,  featured  in  my  produc- 
tion, ‘The  Volga  Boatman,’  once  believed 
that  pockets  were  the  only  place  for  hands. 
But  as  soon  as  the  stiffness  was  eliminated 
from  his  arm  movements,  he  found  the  in- 
between  point  where  gestures  are  most  ef- 
fective for  nicely  balanced  pantomime.  He 
is  but  one  of  the  hundreds  of  actors  who 
have  had  to  learn  that  their  hands  are 
valuable  for  something  other  than  writing 
checks  or  changing  tires.” 

* * * 

ACCORDING  to  an  announcement 
1\.  from  the  Pickford-Fairbanks  head- 
quarters, Joseph  M.  Schenck  will  take 
over  the  studio  used  by  Mary  and  Doug 
while  that  couple  are  absent  on  their  Eu- 


ropean tour.  It  has  not  yet  been  decided 
which  of  the  various 
Schenck  units  will 
work  at  the  Pick- 
ford-Fairbanks stu- 
dios, but  indications 
now  point  to  the 
transference  of  the 
Norma  Talmadge 
and  Constance  Tal- 
madge companies  to 
the  new  quarters. 

Plans  are  now 
being  considered  for 
the  enlargement  of  facilities  at  the  Pick- 
ford-Fairbanks Studios  in  order  that  the 
Schenck  units  may  have  more  room  to 
work.  Already  a large  piece  of  property 
has  been  added  to  the  rear  of  the  “lot” 
and  there  is  every  possibility  that  a new 
stage,  larger  than  any  now  in  existence, 
will  be  built. 

Moving  the  Schenck  companies  to  this 
studio  is  merely  a temporary  arrangement, 
according  to  the  report;  if  Mr.  Fairbanks 
and  Miss  Pickford  make  a picture  abroad 
the  Schenck  companies  no  doubt  will  re- 
main in  possession  of  their  studios  for  a 
year. 

* * * 

ESTELLE  TAYLOR  seems  to  have  a 
regular  menagerie  of  pets  at  her 
house.  Separate  reports  on  their  doings 
show  that  there  is  a “Patsy,”  a “Clara,” 
a “Pete,”  and  a “Tom”  of  the  feline  tribe, 
and  a “Punch”  and 
a “Duke”  represent- 
ing the  canine. 

“Tom”  is  a cat  of 
the  garden  or  alley 
variety,  rescued  by 
Miss  Taylor  last 
spring  when  he 
came  meowing  for 
admittance  at  her 
door,  dragging  after 
him  a maimed  leg. 

He  was  nursed 
back  to  health,  and  dominated  the  house- 
hold, even  her  English  pug  “Punch,”  until 
the  arrival  of  Jack  Dempsey’s  Great  Dane, 
“Duke.”  “Tom”  gave  one  look  at  the 
newcomer  and  fled,  and  he  hasn’t  been 
heard  nor  seen  since. 

Another  report  concerns  “Punch,” 
known  as  Estelle’s  “$10,000  dog.”  It  seems 
that  “Punch”  is  liable  to  justify  his  ex- 
pensive reputation,  despite  the  fact  that 
customs  officials  finally  placed  his  real 
value  at  $58 — if  he  persists  in  indulging 
in  his  appetite  for  costly  bedroom  slippers. 

“Every  year  just  before  Christmas  I 
seem  to  establish  a friendship  for  some 
pup  who  makes  his  meals  on  slippers,”  Miss 
Taylor  remarks.  “Two  years  ago,  my  sis- 
ter’s fox  terrier  raised  hob  with  my  foot- 
wear. All  my  friends  knew  about  it  and 
they  gave  me  slippers  for  Christmas. 
Then  last  year,  Mr.  Dempsey  gave  me  a 
Chow  and  again  I was  slipperless.” 


February 


56  THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 

WHAT  THE  DIRECTORS  ARE  DOING 


Clarence 

Badger 

Directing  “Miss  Brewster's 
Millions”  for  Paramount, 
starring  Bebe  Daniels. 

Edwin 

Carewe 

Directing  “The  Heir  Appar- 
ent” with  Lloyd  Hughes  and 
Mary  "Astor  for  First  Na- 
tional. Scenario  by  Lois 

Leeson. 

James 

Flood 

Directing  “Why  Girls  Go 
Back  Home,”  featuring  Patsy 
Ruth  Miller,  Clive  Brook  and 
George  O’Hara.  Warner 

Bros,  release. 

Sylvano 

Balboni 

Finishing  “The  Far  Cry”  for 
First  National  release,  fea- 
turing Blanche  Sweet.  Scen- 
ario by  Katherine  Kava- 
naugh. 

Benjamin 

Christenson 

Directing  Norma  Shearer  in 
“The  Light  Eternal”  for 
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.  Scen- 
ario by  Mr.  Christensen. 

Emmett 

Flynn 

Directing  “Yellow  Fingers,” 
featuring  Olive  Borden,  for 
Fox.  Scenario  by  Eve  Un- 
sell. 

King 

Baggott 

Directing  “The  Perch  of  the 
Devil”  for  Universal,  featur- 
ing Mae  Busch  and  Pat 
O’Malley.  Adapted  by  Mary 
O’Hara  from  Gertrude  Ath- 
erton’s novel. 

Eddie 

Cline 

Directing  a series  of  pictures 
for  Mack  Sennett  featuring 
Alice  Day. 

John 

Ford 

Editing  and  cutting  “The 
World  of  Promise”  for  Fox. 
This  is  the  new  title  for 
“Three  Bad  Men.”  All-star 
cast. 

William 

Beaudine 

Loaned  by  Warner  Bros,  to 
Famous  Players-Lasky  Corp. 
to  direct  Douglas  McLean  in 
“That’s  My  Baby.” 

Allan 

Crossland 

Editing  “Don  Juan,”  featur- 
ing John  Barrymore,  for 
Warner  Bros.  Scenario  by 
Bess  Meredith. 

Svend 

Gade 

(Between  pictures.) 

Monta 

Bell 

Directing  the  famous  Ibanez 
novel,  “The  Torrent,”  featur- 
ing Ricardo  Cortez  and. Greta 
Garbo  for  Metro-Goldwyn- 
Maver. 

Irving 

Cummings 

Preparing  “Rustling  for  Cu- 
pid” for  Fox. 

A1 

Greene 

Finishing  “Irene,”  starring 
Colleen  Moore,  for  First  Na- 
tional. Scenario  by  June 
Mathis. 

Herbert 

Blache 

Directing  “The  Mystery 

Club”  from  the  story  by  Ar- 
thur Somers  Roche.  Univer- 
sal all-star. 

Allan 

Dwan 

Preparing  “Padlocked”  for 
Paramount.  Not  yet  cast. 

Alan 

Hale 

Directing  “Forbidden  Wa- 
ters,” featuring  Priscilla 

Dean,  from  an  original  story 
by  Percy  Heath. 

J.  Stuart 
Blackton 

Directing  “Hell  Bent  for 
Heaven”  by  Warner  Bros. 
Scenario  by  Marion  Con- 
stance from  the  $25,000  Pulit- 
zer prize  play. 

Cecil 

DeMille 

Editing  and  cutting  “The 
Volga  Boatman.”  All-star 
cast.  Scenario  by  Konrad 
Bercovici. 

Hobart 

Henley 

Directing  Charles  Ray  and 
Eleanor  Boardman  in  “The 
Auction  Block”  for  Metro- 
Goldwyn-Mayer.  All  - star 
cast.  Scenario  by  Frederick 
and  Fanny  Hatton. 

Frank 

Borzage 

Directing  “The  Dixie  Mer- 
chant for  Fox.  All-star  cast. 

Reeves 

Eason 

Directing  George  Walsh  in 
“The  Test  of  Donald  Nor- 
ton” for  Chadwick  Pictures 
Corp. 

George 

Hill 

Directing  the  famous  Rex 
Beach  story,  “The  Barrier,” 
for  Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. 
All-star  cast.  Scenario  by 
Harvey  Gates. 

Clarence 

Brown 

Directing  Norma  Talmadge 
and  Ronald  Colman  in  “Kiki” 
for  First  National  release. 
Scenario  by  Hans  Kraely. 

Harry 

Edwards 

Directing  Harry  Langdon  in 
his  first  feature  length  com- 
edy for  First  National.  The 
title  is  “Tramp,  Tramp, 
Tramp,”  and  is  an  original 
story  by  Langdon  himself. 

Lambert 

Hillyer 

Finishing  “The  Second 
Chance,”  featuring  Anna  Q. 
Nilsson,  for  First  National. 
Scenario  by  Eve  Unsell. 

Dimitri 

Buchowetzki 

Directing  an  as  yet  untitled 
picture  for  Paramount,  star- 
ring Pola  Negri. 

George 

Fitzmaurice 

Editing  “The  Son  of  a 
Sheik,”  starring  Rudolph 

Valentino.  A Joseph  M. 

Schenck  production. 

Renaud 

Hoffman 

Directing  “The  Unknown 
Soldier”  from  an  original 
story  by  Dorothy  Farnum. 
All-star  cast. 

Christy 

Cabanne 

Directing  “Monte  Carlo”, 
featuring  Lew  Cody,  Ger- 
trude Olmstead  and  Roy 
D’Arcy  for  Mctro-Goldwyn- 
Mayer. 

Victor 

Fleming 

Directing  “The  Blind  Daugh- 
ter” for  Paramount,  featuring 
Esther  Ralston,  Earnest  Tor- 
rance and  Jack  Holt. 

E.  Mason 
Hopper 

Directing  “Paris  at  Mid- 
night” with  all-star  cast. 
Taken  from  the  Balzac  novel, 
“Pere  Goriot.”  Scenario  by 
Francis  Marion. 

19  26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


57 


WHAT  THE  DIRECTORS  ARE  DOING 

William  K. 
Howard 

Finishing  “Red  Dice,”  fea- 
turing Rod  La  Rocque,  for 
Cecil  DeMille.  Scenario  by 
Jeanie  McPherson. 

George 

Melford 

Directing  ‘‘Whispering 
Smith”  from  the  novel  by 
Frank  H.  Spearman.  All-star 
cast. 

William  A. 
Seiter 

Directing  “Rolling  Home,” 
featuring  Reginald  Denny, 
for  Universal. 

Rupert 

Julian 

Preparing  “Silence”  for  De- 
Mille. Scenario  by  Beulah 
Marie  Dix. 

Walter 

Morosco 

Directing  “Outlawed,”  Rin- 
Tin-Tin’s  next  for  Warner 
Bros. 

Paul 

Sloane 

Directing  “Eve’s  Leaves,” 
featuring  Leatrice  Joy,  for 
DeMille.  Scenario  by  Elmer 
Harris. 

Earl 

Kenton 

Directing  “The  Sap,”  featur- 
ing Kenneth  Harlan  and 
Mary  McAllister,  for  Warner 
Bros. 

Marshall 

Neilan 

Finishing  “Wild  Oats  Lane,” 
a Marshall  Neilan  production, 
featuring  Viola  Dana  and 
Robert  Agnew. 

Edward 

Sloman 

Directing  “The  Old  Soak” 
for  Universal. 

Henry 

King 

Recently  finished  “Partners 
Again,”  one  of  the  “Potash 
and  Perlmutter”  series. 

Fred 

Niblo 

Enjoying  a well-earned  rest 
after  completing  “Ben-Hur.” 

Sam 

Taylor 

Directing  Harold  Lloyd’s 
next  feature  length  comedy, 
“For  Heaven’s  Sake.” 

Rowland 
N.  Lee 

In  Europe. 

Albert 

Parker 

Directing  Douglas  Fairbanks 
in  “The  Black  Pirate”  for 
United  Artists  release. 

Maurice 

Tourneur 

Directing  the  Marion  Fairfax 
production,  “The  Desert 

Healer,”  featuring  Barbara 
Bedford  and  Lewis  Stone. 

Robert  Z. 
Leonard 

Directing  Corinne  Griffith  in 
“Mile.  Modiste”  for  First 
National  release.  Adapted 
from  the  stage  play  by  Ade- 
laide Heilborn. 

Harry 

Pollard 

Directing  “Beware  of 
Blondes,”  featuring  Laura 
La  Plante  and  Edward  Ever- 
ett Horton,  for  Universal. 
Scenario  by  Mel  Brown. 

King 

Vidor 

Directing  “Bardelys  the  Mag- 
nificent” for  Metro-Goldwyn- 
Mayer.  From  the  novel  by 
Sabatini. 

Frank 

Lloyd 

Just  finished  “The  Splendid 
Road”  with  Anna  Q.  Nils- 
son, his  own  independent 
production. 

Paul 

Powell 

Directing  “The  Prince  of  Pil- 
sen,”  featuring  Anita  Stew- 
art. Belasco  production 

adapted  from  the  stage  play 
by  Anthony  Coldewey. 

Raoul 

Walsh 

Preparing  to  start  work  on 
“What  Price  Glory”  for  Fox. 
Still  uncast. 

Del 

Lord 

Directing  Billy  Bevan  in  all- 
star  Mack  Sennett  series. 

Lynn 

Reynolds 

Directing  “Chip  of  the  Flying 
U,”  starring  “Hoot”  Gibson. 
Universal  picture,  adapted 
from  the  famous  B.  M. 
Bower  book. 

Roland 

West 

Directing  “The  Bat”  for 
United  Artists.  All-star 

cast.  Scenario  by  Julienne 
Josepheson. 

Ernst 

Lubitsch 

Preparing  to  produce  “The 
Door  Mat”  for  Warner 
Bros,  from  the  stage  play  by 
Ethel  Clifton  and  Branda 
Fowler.  As  yet  uncast. 

Phil 

Rosen 

Directing  an  as  yet  untitled 
feature  for  Metro-Goldwyn- 
Mayer,  featuring  Renee 

Adoree  and  Conrad  Nagel. 

William 

Wiley 

Directing  “Lazy  Lightning,” 
featuring  Art  Acord,  for  Uni- 
versal. Another  B.  M.  Bower 
novel. 

Leo 

McCarey 

Directing  a series  of  come- 
dies for  Hal  Roach,  featuring 
Charlie  Chase. 

Roy 

Del  Ruth 

Directing  “The  Grifters,”  fea- 
turing Dolores  Costello  and 
Johnny  Harron,  for  Warner 
Bros.  Scenario  by  Daryl 
Francis  Zanuck. 

John  Griffith 
Wray 

Directing  “Hell's  400”,  fea- 
turing Margaret  Livingston, 
for  Fox.  Scenario  by  Brad- 
ley King. 

Robert 

McGowan 

Still  fathering  “Our  Gang” 
over  at  Hal  Roach  Studios. 

Edward 

Sedgewick 

Directing  “The  Continental 
Limited,”  all-star  cast,  for 

Universal.  Scenario  by  Cur- 
tis Benton. 


58 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


MOTION  picture  work  is  never  fin- 
ished. The  whistle  does  not  blow 
to  release  the  men  and  women  en- 
gaged in  the  creative  side  of  the  picture 
industry  from  their  toil  and  their  respon- 
sibility. The  star  who  is  not  before  the 
camera  is  studying  a new  role  and  select- 
ing costumes,  or  negotiating  for  a new 
contract.  The  extra  who  is  not  working 
is  seeking  another  part.  The  director  who 
is  not  beside  his  cameras  is  superintending 
the  cutting  of  a film  just  finished,  or  work- 
ing over  the  script  of  a production  soon  to 
be  begun. 

It  is  this  condition  which  tends  to  limit 
personal  contacts  to  business  hours,  to  iso- 
late the  social  and  co-operative  forces  of 
the  industry,  and  to  narrow  the  interests 
and  points  of  view  of  the  thousands  of  men 
and  women  who  are  engaged  in  the  mani- 
fold activities  of  motion  picture  production. 

The  formation  of  clubs  and  association 
of  all  sorts,  linking  the  interest  of  indi- 
viduals with  groups,  of  groups  with  other 
groups,  and  of  the  motion  picture  industry 
as  a whole  with  the  public  it  serves,  is  a 
comparatively  recent  movement.  But  al- 
ready it  has  gone  a long  way  toward  ac- 
complishing its  purpose.  Individual  insul- 
ation and  isolation  of  interest  has  been 
broken  down.  The  force  of  constructive 
co-operation  is  being  brought  to  bear  with 
more  and  more  force.  A great  breadth  of 
contact  has  been  established. 

The  result  is  that  today,  in  spite  of  the 
exacting  and  absorbing  nature  of  the  work 
of  most  persons  engaged  in  the  making 
of  screen  productions,  the  motion  picture 
art  and  industry  has  community  interests, 
group  and  general  co-operation,  and  organ- 
ized social  force  for  fostering  the  best  of 
relations  with  its  patrons,  comparable  to 
and  perhaps  excelling  those  of  any  other 
industry.  Through  clubs  and  forces  of 
organization  of  a non-commercial  variety, 
the  scattered  interests  and  ambitions  of  in- 
dividuals within  the  industry  have  been 
gathered  and  crystallized  into  a responsible, 
co-operative,  constructive  force  of  great 
power  and  limitless  possibilities. 

Among  the  most  important  and  interest- 
ing clubs  and  organizations  that  have  been 
created  as  direct  or  indirect  by-products  of 
the  screen  are  The  Motion  Picture  Direc- 
tors’ Association,  The  Writers  Club  and 
Screen  Writers  Guild,  the  Society  of  Amer- 
ican Cinematographers,  The  Western  As- 
sociation of  Motion  Picture  Advertisers,  or 
Wampas;  its  feminine  counterpart  The 


Wasps;  The  Two  Thirty-three  Club;  The 
Masquers;  The  Troupers  Club  and  The 
Screen  Club. 

Each  of  these  organizations  has  its  sep- 
arate and  individual  entity,  interests,  and 
functions.  Each  has  its  own  limitations 
and  scope  in  membership.  Several  ties 
unite  them  all,  however;  they  are  affiliated 
in  general  community  interest,  in  working 
for  the  welfare  of  the  motion  picture  in- 
dustry and  its  people  and  in  fostering 
among  their  members  a feeling  of  joint 
and  individual  responsibility  to  society  in 
the  creation  of  an  entertainment  of  such 
giant  scope  and  influence  as  that  which 
the  cinema  offers. 

The  Motion  Picture  Directors  Associa- 
tion, of  which  William  Beaudine  is  presi- 
dent, has  on  its  membership  roster  many 
of  the  most  prominent  screen  directors  in 
the  industry.  The  organization  has  its 
headquarters  in  Hollywood  at  1925  North 
Wilcox  Avenue,  in  a homelike,  old-fash- 
ioned dwelling  house. 

There,  directors  who  have  wone  their 
place  in  the  sun  exchange  gossip,  ideas, 
reminiscences  and  criticism  with  the  newer 
recruits.  Social  events,  professional  or  gen- 
eral, are  given  at  frequent  intervals,  among 
the  most  characteristic  of  which  is  the  cus- 
tom of  giving  banquets  in  honor  of  out- 
standing achievements.  For  example,  a 
banquet  of  this  sort  was  given  in  honor  of 
King  Vidor,  in  recognition  and  praise  of 
his  work  in  directing  “The  Big  Parade.” 
Just  before  that  event,  John  Ford  occupied 
the  place  of  honor  at  a similar  function,  in 
celebration  of  his  success  with  that  classic 
of  pioneer  Western  spectacles,  “The  Iron 
Horse.” 

An  organization  much  akin  to  the  Di- 
rectors’ Association  is  the  American  So- 
ciety of  Cinematographers.  Homer  A.  Scott 
is  president,  and  the  Hollywood  headquar- 
ters are  at  1219  Guaranty  Building,  where 
permanent  clubrooms  are  maintained.  The 
cameramen  meet  here  socially  and  officially, 
as  an  organization  or  as  individual  mem- 
bers of  the  club.  The  organization  has  an 
official  publication,  “The  American  Cin- 
ematographer,” which  is  devoted  to  club 
news  and  technical  discussion. 

The  Writers  Club  of  Hollywood  main- 
tains its  separate  identity  as  a local  organ- 
ization, although  affiliated  with  the  Screen 
Writers  Guild  of  the  Authors  League  of 
America,  and  also  with  the  Authors 
League  of  America  itself.  It  happens  at 
this  time  that  the  same  president,  Rupert 


Hughes,  serves  both  The  Writers  Club  of 
Hollywood,  and  the  Screen  Writers  Guild. 

Organized  four  years  ago,  with  Frank 
E.  Woods  as  first  president,  The  Writers 
quickly  won  a name  for  their  social  func- 
tions, their  banquets,  plays,  and  previews 
of  photoplays.  Their  clubhouse,  which  is 
at  6700  Sunset  Boulevard,  is  a big,  ram- 
bling, ivy-clad  structure  of  homelike  at- 
mosphere similar  to  that  of  the  directors’ 
headquarters.  It  has  a library,  lounging 
room,  billiard  room,  dining  hall  and  thea- 
tre. The  latter  is  well  equipped  for  pre- 
senting either  stage  or  screen  offerings.  The 
building  and  grounds  are  owned  by  mem- 
bers of  The  Writers. 

The  stage  plays  given  at  The  Writers 
are,  for  the  most  part,  written  by  the  mem- 
bers, and  since  the  inception  of  the  club 
seventy-six  one-act  plays  have  been  pre- 
sented. The  giving  of  plays  is  a regular 
affair,  in  charge  of  a play  committee,  of 
which  Alfred  A.  Cohn  is  chairman.  Some 
of  the  most  successful  one-act  plays  of  the 
past  several  years  have  been  given  their  in- 
itial tryouts  at  The  Writers,  where  they 
are  subjected  to  a merciless  but  thoroughly 
constructive  criticism. 

In  addition  to  banquets  and  other  func- 
tions within  the  club  membership,  events 
of  importance  in  connection  with  the  mo- 
tion picture  industry  and  the  literary  world 
have  been  celebrated.  One  of  the  first  of 
these  was  a dinner  welcoming  the  advent 
of  George  Ade  to  Hollywood,  while  one 
of  the  most  recent  affairs  of  this  sort  was 
held  in  honor  of  Michael  Arlen’s  visit  to 
the  film  colony. 

The  Wampas  is  a familiar  name  for 
The  Western  Association  of  Motion  Pic- 
ture Advertisers.  As  the  title  indicates, 
this  association  is  composed  of  advertising 
and  publicity  men  connected  with  all 
branches  of  the  motion  picture  industry. 
Wampas  semi-monthly  meetings  are  held 
at  the  clubhouse  of  The  Writers. 

Each  year,  the  Wampas  stage  a very- 
large  and  highly  advertised  event,  the 
Wampas  Frolic.  At  this  function,  which 
is  an  entertainment  open  to  the  public,  the 
most  novel  attraction  is  the  introduction  of 
thirteen  young  women  whom  the  organiza- 
tion has  selected  by  vote  as  the  most  prom- 
ising actresses  not  hitherto  presented  by  the 
Wampas,  or  already  famous  as  stars.  Fur- 
ther details  concerning  the  Wampas  organ- 
ization are  given  in  another  article  in  this 

(Continued  on  Page  60) 


1 9 26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


59 


The  Motor  Car  Trend  for  1926 

(Continued  from  Page  28) 


these  days  of  ever-increasing  wheel  traffic 
throughout  the  country. 

Super-chargers  to  pep  up  fuel  combus- 
tion, increasing  power  and  speed  and  mate- 
rially decreasing  fuel  consumption  are  still 
being  tested  by  race  drivers  and  technical 
engineers  for  future  adoption  on  stock  cars. 
That  will  usher  in  a still  more  startling 
era.  Some  makers  have  incorporated  the 
super-charger  idea  to  a limited  extent  but 
sensational  results  as  to  high  mileage  are 
still  to  come. 

Some  fours  have  been  replaced  by  sixes 
just  as  some  sixes  have  been  supplanted 
by  eights.  There  are  about  fourteen  eights 
of  various  types  now  being  built  by  well- 
known  manufacturers. 

Twenty  years  ago  it  was  a triangular 
battle  between  ones,  twos  and  fours.  Now 
the  contest  is  between  fours,  sixes  and 
eights,  with  the  two  latter  fast  outstripping 
the  former. 

On  the  whole,  car  performance  will  be 
found  to  be  better  than  a year  ago,  and 
that,  in  the  broadest  sense,  is  what  every- 
body buys.  Comfort,  economy,  reliability, 
power  and  quietness  of  operation  have 
been  enhanced. 

Valve  assemblies  have  been  silenced, 
crankshafts  have  been  stiffened,  balancers 
have  decreased  vibration,  springs  have  been 
balanced  to  balloon  tires,  brakes  have  re- 
duced collision  hazard,  and  steering  con- 
trol has  very  definitely  increased  motoring 
security. 

In  presenting  a pictorial  array  of  the 
new  cars  here,  an  attempt  has  been  made 
to  include  as  many  prices  classes  as  possible 
and  at  the  same  time  provide  illustrations 
of  the  newest  models  which  are  attracting 
nation-wide  attention. 

Besides  the  Stutz  and  Pontiac,  outstand- 
ing models  which  are  proving  show  sensa- 
tions are  the  Chn'sler  Six,  Rickenbacker 
Eight,  Willys-Knight  Six,  Nash  Advanced 
Six,  Hupp  Eight  and  Paige  Six. 

Walter  P.  Chrysler’s  new  Imperial 
“80,”  a larger,  finer,  faster  six,  was  given 
its  Los  Angeles  debut  the  same  day  that 
the  New  York  show  opened.  It  has  a 
ninety-two  horsepower  engine  with  a 
speed  range  up  to  80  miles  an  hour.  Six 
body  styles  include  roadster  and  phaeton 
of  sport  type,  coupe,  five  and  seven-passen- 
ger sedans  and  a sedan  limousine.  Rubber 
cushion  clamps  take  the  place  of  shackle 
bolts  at  the  spring  ends,  increasing  riding 
ease,  and  eliminating  lubrication. 

Captain  Eddie  Rickenbacker  says  his 
new  straight  eight  super-sport  roadster  is 
the  fastest  stock  car  in  America.  He  de- 
clares he  has  driven  it  97  miles  an  hour. 
It  is  mounted  on  the  regular  Rickenbacker 
eight  chassis,  has  a 100-horsepower  motor 


and  is  guaranteed  to  deliver  90  miles  an 
hour,  which  probably  makes  it  the  fastest 
stock  car  in  the  world.  The  sedan  shown 
here  is  powered  with  the  same  engine, 
equipped  with  two  carburetors  and  nine 
main  bearings.  Shatter-proof  glass  is 
standard  equipment.  Safety  is  a prime 
factor  in  design  and  all  the  models  are  low 
and  racy  looking. 

The  new  Willys-Knight  6-70  is  a lighter 
car  with  the  smallest  bore  sleeve-valve  en- 
gine ever  built  in  this  country,  giving  it  an 
excess  of  power  and  snappy  pick-up.  It  has 
safety  four-wheel  brakes,  is  long  and  low, 
and  positively  oiled  through  a specially  de- 
signed pressure  lubricating  system. 

Nash  announces  the  first  closed  car  to 
have  a motor  built  especially  for  a closed 
car,  in  his  new  Advanced  Six.  This  newly 
designed  “Closed  Car  Motor”  is  said  to 
deliver  the  same  rate  of  power  per  pound 
to  move  the  heavier  closed  models,  as  for- 
mer motors  exerted  in  propelling  lighter 
open  models,  affording  a smoothness  and 
responsiveness  never  before  achieved  in 
closed  car  performance. 

Buick  remains  unchanged  with  closed 
cars  leading  in  popularity.  Chandler  has 
bought  out  Cleveland  and  is  showing  new 
closed  models,  featuring  the  Chandler 
20th  Century  Sedan,  and  a Cleveland  Spe- 
cial Six  coupe,  both  equipped  wfith  one-shot 
lubrication.  Oldsmobile  has  a new  Utility 
Coupe  and  a Coach  of  smart  appearance 
and  medium  prices  with  some  new  refine- 
ments. Locomobile  Junior  Eight  recently 


Overlooking  the  Willamette  Valley, 
Oregon 


introduced  a new  aristocratic  looking  coupe 
and  a brougham,  with  that  famous  speed- 
way engine.  Wills  St.  Claire  looks  like  a 
thoroughbred,  prepped  for  a sprint.  Lines 
are  low  and  rakish. 

The  Ninety  Degree  Cadillac  is  the  latest 
thing  out  in  this  line,  and  after  Don  Lee 
gets  them,  he  adds  distinctive  custom 
touches  in  his  own  shops  to  fit  the  personal 
taste  of  his  patrons.  The  Franklin  “Series 
LI”  is  the  only  air-cooled  car  of  national 
prominence,  and  Rupert  Larson  has  proved 
repeatedly  that  this  “Camel”  can  stand 
gruelling  punishment  almost  indefinite. 
Studebaker  is  featuring  a new  Big  Six 
Sport  Roadster,  the  design  of  which  was 
personally  supervised  by  Paul  G.  Hoffman, 
who  still  calls  Los  Angeles  “home”  despite 
the  fact  that  he  is  spending  most  of  his 
time  in  South  Bend,  where  he  is  said  to 
have  started  a new  era  of  pep  among  Stu- 
debaker workers. 

The  Diana  Eight  and  the  Moon  Six 
have  proved  popular  throughout  the  past 
year,  and  while  they  do  not  build  yearly 
models,  their  new  cars  are  up  to  the  minute 
in  design  and  appointment,  backed  by  a 
$75,000,000  group  of  specialists. 

Velie  has  somewhat  jumped  over  the 
traces  with  the  advent  of  their  new  “wind- 
splitting” sedan  designed  after  the  German 
idea,  with  long  slanting  windshield  and 
bowed-out  body  back,  a complete  style 
change  from  former  models. 

Jordan,  as  usual,  is  out  in  front  with 
two  sizes  of  line  eights.  He  builds  noth- 
ing else  now,  and  is  making  friends  every 
day  with  his  policy  of  quality  building 
along  standard  lines  with  advanced  ideas 
of  design  and  style. 

Kissel  has  a new  all-year  convertible 
coupe  roadster  which  can  be  opened  or 
closed  according  to  the  feel  of  the  weather. 
This  number  ought  to  make  many  friends 
for  them,  for  it  is  a tailored  looking  crea- 
tion of  low,  swift  design. 

Marmon  has  established  a special  style 
department  devoted  entirely  to  building 
good  looks  into  their  cars  that  will  make 
motor  car  “modistes”  sit  up  and  take 
notice. 

Sixes  lead  the  parade  in  new  announce- 
ments for  the  year  with  eights  showing 
the  greatest  proportionate  gain.  There 
are  five  V-type  eights,  and  sixteen  straight 
eights  for  ambitious  owners  to  conjure 
with.  Only  ten  fours  put  in  an  appearance 
at  the  New  York  show.  Henry  Ford  was 
conspicuous  by  his  absence.  His  new  mod- 
els are  already  much  in  evidence  every- 
where and  he  is  busy  building  airplanes 
and  new  engines  for  dirigibles. 


60 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


America’s  Sweetheart  (Continued  from  Page  41) 


The  FOX 
SCARF 


harmonizing  with  every  frock 
— so  many  places  they  can  be 
worn  — an  indispensable  part 
of  every  wardrobe — More 
popular  than  ever  this  spring. 


Many  shades  and  qualities 
from  which  to  choose. 


The  ATELIER 


2126  West  Seventh  Street 

opposite  Westlake  Park 


upon  this  factor.  They  are  working 
steadily  upward  in  story  and  production 
quality  to  a climax  that  seems  always  just 
ahead. 

Many  followers  of  the  screen  have  felt 
that  such  a climax  would  arrive  if  she 
made  a production  with  her  husband, 
Douglas  Fairbanks,  in  a co-star  role. 
Countless  rumors  to  the  effect  that  such  a 
venture  was  about  to  be  made  have  gone 
the  rounds,  and  finally  a near-promise  has 
been  given  by  the  stars  to  make  the  joint 
production  in  the  immediate  future.  It  is 
to  be  launched  either  during  their  stay 
abroad,  or  just  after  their  return  to  Holly- 
wood. 

While  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  a 
Pickford-Fairbanks  co-star  production 
would  score  a tremendous  success  from  an 
entertainment  point  of  view,  no  climax  in 
the  screen  career  of  Mary  Pickford  will  be 
reached  thereby.  She  may  go  on  from 
there,  either  in  her  own  productions  or  with 
Mr.  Fairbanks.  Only  one  limitation  will 
be  imposed  upon  her  by  the  public,  and 
that  is — she  may  not  grow  up! 

Countless  news  stories  and  magazine  ar- 
ticles have  told  the  screen  lovers  of  the 
world  about  Mary  Pickford’s  daily  mail. 
The  great  number  of  letters  of  apprecia- 


issue  of  The  Motion  Picture  Director. 

The  Wampas  being  composed  exclusively 
of  masculine  publicists  and  advertisers,  an- 
other organization  having  functions  very 
similar  has  been  created  by  the  women  pub- 
licity representatives  and  advertisers  of  the 
studios.  This  club  is  called  Women’s  As- 
sociation, Screen  Publicists,  or  W.A.S.P.S., 
and  its  newly  elected  president  is  Elizabeth 
Reardon. 

The  Masquers  is  a large  and  recently 
developed  organization  of  screen  actors 
and  directors  headed  by  one  of  the  found- 
ers, Robert  Edeson,  whose  title  is  not  pres- 
ident but  Harlequin.  Other  officers  are 
named  as  follows:  John  Sainpolis,  Pierrot; 
George  E.  Read,  Croesus;  Fred  Esmelton, 
Ponchinello;  Robert  Schable,  Pantaloon.  It 
has  a house  committee,  an  entertainment 
committee,  and  a “Jesterate,”  and  its  mot- 
to is,  “We  Laugh  to  Win.” 

This  club  is  one  of  the  most  recently 
organized,  having  been  founded  on  May 
12,  1925.  After  various  social  events  with- 
in its  membership,  the  first  public  revel, 
which  is  to  be  an  annual  event  hereafter, 
was  held  at  the  Philharmonic  Audtiorium 
on  October  22nd,  1925.  Entertainment  is 
supplied  entirely  by  the  membership. 

At  the  Masquers  clubhouse,  6735  Yucca 
street,  Hollywood,  the  members  foregather 
at  all  times  of  day  and  in  all  sorts  of  cos- 
tume and  makeup,  as,  in  New  York,  stage 
and  screen  players  do  at  The  Lambs.  Be- 
sides the  exchange  of  gossip  and  opinion, 


tion,  letters  asking  advice,  letters  request- 
ing photographs  and  letters  that  only  pour 
out  the  hearts  of  the  writers  has  increased 
with  the  passing  years. 

A thoroughly  representative  instance  of 
this  adoration  that  has  enshrined  Miss 
Pickford  as  “America’s  Sweetheart”  is 
given  in  the  form  of  a present  she  received 
from  Mrs.  Helen  Eckles,  of  San  Diego, 
California.  The  gift  was  a set  of  seven 
large  scrap  books,  containing  newspaper 
and  magazine  clippings  that  covered  the 
star’s  film  career  from  the  time  she  became 
known  to  the  public  by  name. 

This  admirer  of  Mary  Pickford  has 
gathered  the  clippings  contained  in  the 
scrap  books  from  every  newspaper  and 
magazine  she  could  obtain,  and  her  first 
plan  was  to  preserve  the  unique  collection 
for  herself.  Years  of  admiration  for  the 
star  finally  culminated  in  a personal  meet- 
ing in  Hollywood,  and  as  a result  of  this 
meeting,  in  the  presentation  of  the  scrap- 
books— a gift  that  money  could  not  buy 
or  duplicate. 

H er  fame  has  grown,  and  continues  to 
grow,  but  the  charming  matron,  Mrs. 
Douglas  Fairbanks,  shall  never  reach  ma- 
turity on  the  screen.  She  shall  remain  al- 
ways the  little  girl  of  “Annie  Rooney”  and 
of  “Sparrows.” 


it  is  here  that  the  entertainments  are  dis- 
cussed and  plotted.  The  “prompter”  in 
charge  of  entertainment  has  absolute  com- 
mand over  the  two  hundred  screen-celeb- 
rity members,  from  whom  he  may  pick  his 
casts  and  production  staffs  for  the  next 
Masquers’  revel. 

The  Troupers  Club  is  another  very  re 
cently  organized  group,  and  one  of  the 
most  interesting.  Its  primary  requisite  for 
membership  is  a formidable  one:  Thirty 
years  in  the  theatrical  profession  on  the 
stage  or  as  manager!  It  was  founded  only 
a few  months  ago  with  nine  members,  and 
the  membership  is  now  nearing  one  hun- 
drer.  The  meetings,  which  are  dinners, 
are  called  Rehearsals,  and  the  officers  are 
as  follows : 

Stage  Manager,  Frank  Norcross  ; 
Prompter,  Charles  Thurston ; Call  Boy, 
Palmer  Morrison;  Stage  Doorkeeper,  Fred 
Gambold.  The  members  are  called  The 
Cast. 

The  Two  Thirty-Three  Club  is  a Ma- 
sonic organization  of  actors  and  motion 
picture  workers,  with  a large  and  influen- 
tial membership.  Further  information 
concerning  this  organization  will  be  sup- 
plied under  a department  devoted  to  the 
Two  Thirty-Three  Club,  in  the  next  issue 
of  The  Motion  Picture  Director.  The 
Screen  Club  is  essentially  a recreation  and 
vacation  club,  with  headquarters  in  the 
High  Sierras  at  Lake  Arrowhead, 


Fraternities  of  the  Screen  ( Continued  from  Page  58) 


19  26 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


61 


<C 


At  Home  to  o ur  Friends  o f tile 
Si  ver  Sheet  and  the  Location  Lot 


Barker  bros  . are  lidding 

(( open  house 9 at  the  new  residence  m the  Quality  Center  o f L OS 
Angeles  shopping  section.  Ateinh  ers  o ftl  le  ALotion  Picture  family, 
heing  o Id  friends  o ftl  ns  establishment,  a very  cordial  invitation  is 
hereby  extended  to  yon  to  come  and  enjoy  all  that  our  new  home  has 
to  oiler  ol  beauty,  practical  worth  and  trained,  intelligent  service. 
We  are  waiting  to  make  you  all  truly  (( at  homeJ.9 

BARKER  BROS. 

Complete  Furnishers  of  Successful  Homes 
SEVENTH  Street,  Flower  & Figueroa 


62 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


Announcement 


Frank  E.  Warren  Inc., 
automotive  finance  and 
insurance  company  an- 
nounces the  acquisition 
of  Floyd  V.  Bennett, 
nationally  known  insur- 
ance counsellor  to 
the  personnel 

| | | 


We  have  acquired  rep- 
resentation of  every 
substantial  insurance 
company  and  are  now 
prepared  and  equipped 
to  handle  insurance  in 
all  its  branches 

[[“WARREN -TEED  INSURANCE  ]1 
U MEANS  PROPER  PROTECTION”  if 

Frank  E.  Warren  Inc. 

6461  Sunset  Boulevard 
Tel.  GRanite  4780 

•> <* 

uCPhone  for  Qounsel ” 


Frank  E.  Warren 


The  Man  on  the  Cover 

(Continued,  from  Page  22) 

in  pictures — is  that  he  is  always  open  to 
suggestions  and  new  ideas.  If  you  have 
any  that  are  based  on  sound  logic,  are 
practical,  commercially  feasible  or  at  least 
artistically  unique,  this  man  Brown  will 
lend  you  an  ear. 

H is  wife  is  his  constant  companion.  No- 
body who  has  ever  met  her  twice  could 
burden  her  with  the  formal  dignity  of 
Mrs.  Clarence  Brown.  Ona  Brown  is  a 
worthy  helpmate  to  her  husband — an  in- 
spiration rather  than  an  obstruction.  She 
is  always  keyed  to  a high  pitch  of  enthusi- 
asm about  anything  that  her  capable  hus- 
band has  accomplished  or  is  about  to  ac- 
complish. Praise  showered  on  Clarence 
Brown  is  praise  twice  showered  on  his 
wife.  She  has  a business  sense  that  is  keen 
to  the  ’steenth  degree.  She  is  looking  out 
for  the  welfare  of  Clarence  Brown.  She 
is  a courageous  and  tireless  champion  of 
anything  and  everything  that  will  tend  to 
enhance  and  forward  the  cause  of  her  hus- 
band. But  she  is  not  selfish.  The  home 
of  the  Browns  is  a quiet,  happy  retreat; 
a haven  from  the  hurry  and  bustle  of  life. 
Here  everybody  is  assured  of  a homey  and 
democratic  welcome.  That  is  the  spirit  of 
the  Brown  chateau. 

Then  there  is  Adrienne  Ann  Brown. 
Nine  years  of  age.  Wistful,  childishly 
serious.  Shy  but  pleasant.  Adrienne  has 
told  her  daddy  that  when  she  grows  up 
she’s  going  to  be  a motion  picture  actress. 
Clarence  says,  “It’s  up  to  her.”  Just  now, 
however,  Adrienne  is  living  the  intoxicat- 
ingly  joyous  and  fleeting  years  of  childhood 
at  Chevy  Chase  School  in  Washington, 
D.C. 

The  Clarence  Brown  that  tomorrow 
will  carry  to  the  heights  of  motion  picture 
glory  has  been  an  industrious  and  serious 
apprentice. 

The  strides  he  has  made  in  his  profes- 
sion are  not  only  an  indication  of  public 
recognition  of  one  who  knows  his  business 
but  the  crystallization  of  a faith  and  a -will- 
to-do  that  has  seen  many  dark  days  before 
the  light  came. 

It  is  hard  to  develop  enthusiasm  about 
people  in  this  business  of  up-today  and 
down-tomorrow.  Sometimes  their  mettle 
does  not  meet  the  test.  We  believe  in 
Clarence  Brown.  You  will,  too. 


The  Little  Journey,  a recent  fiction 
success  by  Rachael  Crothers,  has  been 
purchased  by  the  Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer 
studios  for  early  screen  production. 

Rachael  Crothers  is  one  of  America’s 
best  known  fiction  writers,  having  written 
various  stories  in  the  Saturday  Evening 
Post  and  other  magazines,  as  well  as  a 
number  of  successful  novels. 


7 926 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


63 


Architects  to  Exhibit 

rT~'HE  first  exhibition  of  the  Architects 
X League  of  Hollywood,  to  be  given  at 
the  Regent  Hotel,  starts  February  8 and 
will  continue  for  two  weeks.  This  exhibi- 
tion will  include  not  only  architectural 
work,  but  work  of  the  allied  arts:  mural 
painting,  architectural  sculpture,  plastic 
work,  iron  work,  landscape  gardening,  mo- 
tion picture  sets,  and  architectural  models. 

A dinner  and  entertainment  to  be  given 
on  the  evening  of  February  5th  at  the 
Regent  Hotel,  precedes  the  formal  opening 
of  the  exhibition.  At  this  function,  mem- 
bers of  the  League  and  the  architects  of 
Hollywood  in  general  will  be  entertained. 


New  Warner  Theatre 

(Continued  from  Page  35) 

played  an  active  part  in  the  ground  break- 
ing. Reading  from  left  to  right,  they  are : 
Leon  Schlessinger,  George  Coffin,  Holly- 
wood Chamber  of  Commerce ; Bennie 
Zeidman,  associate  executive,  Warner 
Bros.;  William  Koenig,  studio  manager; 
E.  T.  Loew,  Jr.,  scenarist;  Jack  Warner, 
production  manager;  Syd  Chaplin,  Harry 
C.  Knox,  Joe  Toplitsky,  Motley  Flint, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  B.  Warner,  mother  and 
father  of  the  Warner  brothers;  Harry  M. 
Warner,  Ernst  Lubitsch,  Charley  Well- 
man and  J.  Stuart  Blackton.  Back  of  them 
rises  the  artist’s  conception  of  what  the  new 
theatre  and  home  of  KFWB  will  be  like 
when  completed. 


Chinese  Theatre 

(Continued  from  Page  34) 

which  the  first  excavation  was  made. 

Sid  Grauman’s  plans  for  the  new  the- 
atre are  based  on  rearing  what  will  in  truth 
be  a temple  to  the  cinema  and  allied  arts, 
a Chinese  temple  in  which  will  be  en- 
shrined the  beauty,  artistry  and  culture  of 
the  orient  as  the  atmospheric  background 
for  the  presentation  of  the  best  in  music, 
drama,  and  cinematic  achievement.  From 
the  entrance  to  the  huge  elliptical  fore- 
court to  the  backdrop  of  the  vast  stage  the 
Chinese  motif  will  be  carried  out.  Upon 
the  completion  of  the  structure  one  will, 
upon  passing  through  a pagoda-like  en- 
trance, find  oneself  virtually  in  the  orient. 
This  effect  is  to  be  heightened  by  the 
forty-foot  wall  which  will  surround  the 
forecourt  and  effectually  shut  off  the  rest 
of  the  world  for  the  time  being. 


If  you  have  an  idea  of  interest  to  the 
motion  picture  industry  write  THE  DIREC- 
TOR about  it. 

Subscription  rates  to  THE  DIRECTOR 
are  $2.50  per  year. 


Rugs  of  Worth 

TN  SELECTING  rugs  there  should  be  consid- 
A ered  these  three  points  — service,  beauty,  au- 
thenticity. 

While  we  can  recognize  beauty,  few  of  us  can  pass 
on  the  authenticity  of  an  Oriental  Rug. 

Service  is  very  important,  for  rugs  have  to  stand 
more  wear  than  any  other  object  in  the  room.  They 
are  ever  in  full  view  and  their  beauty  must  be 
sustained. 

The  collection  of  Oriental  and  Chinese  Rugs  at 
the  “California”  combines  the  best  obtainable 
from  a service  standpoint  with  the  most  intriguing 
in  color  and  designs. 

And  the  prestige  and  reliability  of  the  “Califor- 
nia” assure  you  of  the  authenticity  of  every  rug 
you  purchase  here. 

Gafiformfc|fe^urtii|ure(2 

644.545  ^ A BROADWAY. 

Interior  Decorators 


64 


THE 


MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


qA  SM ess  age  from 

Urury  ffilaur  SltiL 

■% 

twenty  years  I’ve 
T been  mentally  re- 
tf  dressing  the  people 
with  whom  I have  come 
in  contact.  At  first  it  af- 
forded me  a little  idle 
amusement.  Later  I got  a 
great  kick  out  of  visualiz- 
ing a friend  dressed  in  a 
suit  of  clothes  that  I built 
for  him  in  my  mind.  Some 
times  I would  fairly  itch  to 
tell  him  about  it,  and  fi- 
nally it  became  an  obses- 
sion with  me. 

And  then  I found  two 
other  men . . . 

WILLIAM 

BEAUDINE 

and 

JOHN  D. 
SCHULZE 

who  like  myself  have  for 
years  been  mentally  build- 
ing  clothes  for  their 
friends.  So  now  we  have 
today  . . . 

DRURY  LANE 

I am  having  the  time  of 
my  life  actually  building 
clothes  for  my  friends.  You 
can  take  it  for  granted  — 
you  are  cordially  invited 
to  come  up  to  DRURY 
LANE — and  I hope  you’ll 
come — for  I’d  sure  like  to 
run  a tape  measure  around 
you. 

You’ll  like  DRURY 
LANE  ( its  personnel  is 
modest).  You’ll  enjoy  its 
aristocratic  atmosphere 
and  dignified  originality. 
Won’t  you  let  us  know 
when  to  exped  you?  We 
can  smoke  and  chat  and 
get  acquainted. 

Estado  ne  Manana 
Sincerely, 

E.  L.  VALBRACHT 

IrurylCattpICtiL 

5404  i?irrra  Uista  Aurrnu' 
lliilUjanioi) 
ffiladBtmtr  1T36 

iflakrrfi  of  (Dutrr  (Barmrntfi  fur  iRrn 


Motherhood  and  the  Screen 

(Continued  from  Page  16) 


"I  miss  the  faces  beyond  the  footlights,” 
confessed  a professional  friend  of  mine  who 
was  dining  at  my  home.  “Somehow  there’s 
a wave  of  feeling  that  sweeps  back  over 
the  footlights  when  you  send  it  out  from 
you,  and  it  gets  the  people  out  there.  It 
comes  back,  and  enters  you,  and  you  react 
to  it  by  rising  to  greater  heights.  In  pic- 
tures, it’s  only  the  director,  and  a few 
cynical  cameramen  and  property  men, 
and — ” 

One  of  my  girls  heard  this,  and  when 
the  guest  had  departed,  of  course  there 
were  questions.  . . . 

“Don’t  you  miss  it,  then,  mamma?”  she 
demanded. 

“No,”  I was  able  to  say  with  the  utmost 
of  conviction.  The  subject  was,  and  is, 
one  near  to  my  heart.  “No,  dear,  I do  not 
miss  the  theatre  audience.”  Of  course,  I 
have  not  faced  many  theatre  audiences.  My 
experience  in  that  line  has  been  confined 
practically  to  amateur  performances  and 
personal  appearances.  But  I truly  feel  in- 
spired when  I face  the  camera,  and  I’ll 
tell  you  why. 

“Beyond  the  director  and  the  camera- 
men, the  property  men  and  the  sets,  I seem 
to  see  and  to  feel  a greater  audience  than 
any  single  theatre  can  hold.  There’s  a 
sea  of  intent  faces:  faces  of  men  and  women 
and  children  not  only  of  our  country,  but 
of  every  country  in  the  world.  There 
are  the  folk  of  England,  of  Holland,  of 
the  Scandinavian  countries;  there  are  folk 
of  the  Orient,  there  are  folk  of  all  colors 
and  races.  Some  are  very,  very  poor,  but 
it  costs  them  little  to  see  a picture  in  their 
country,  and  it  brings  them  some  happiness 


and  light.  Others  are  very  rich  and  pow- 
erful— and  perhaps  the  pictures  they  see 
will  make  them  help  the  poor,  and  be 
kinder  to  everyone. 

“That  is  what  I see  and  feel,  and  to  me, 
it  is  more  inspiring  than  any  theatre  audi- 
ence and  its  applause  would  be.  You  see, 
through  the  magic  of  the  camera,  it  is  now 
possible  to  spread  happiness  throughout 
the  whole  world,  and  it  makes  me  very, 
very  happy,  and  very,  very  proud  to  think 
that  I can  contribute  my  bit  to  the  enter- 
tainment of  that  vast,  wonderful  audience.” 

Yes — in  that  thought  I perceive  justifi- 
cation for  all  struggle  on  the  road  to  a 
screen  career.  To  give  the  world,  to  give 
all  humanity  that  added  happiness  and 
light,  that  beginning  of  universal  under- 
standing and  oneness  of  thought  that  may 
some  day  fuse  the  interests  of  mankind,  is 
the  mission  of  the  motion  picture.  The 
privilege  of  making  important  contribu- 
tions to  this  cause  is,  I feel,  the  utmost 
reward,  the  highest  pinnacle,  the  greatest 
attainment  that  a career  can  offer  me. 
Combined  with  the  things  that,  through 
screen  work,  I have  been  able  to  give  to 
the  children,  the  reward  is  great  enough! 

If  I did  not  believe  I have  been  a good 
mother  to  the  children,  I would  not  be  sat- 
isfied. If  I did  not  believe  that  any  mother 
who  preserved  the  ideal  of  motherhood  in 
her  struggle  for  success  on  the  screen  could 
do  equally  well,  in  proportion  to  her  suc- 
cess as  an  actress,  I would  not  give  such 
an  optimistic  message  to  other  mothers 
who,  perhaps,  would  like  to  enter  motion 
pictures — if  it  were  not  for  their  children. 

If  you  like,  enter  motion  pictures  be- 
cause of  the  children! 


Norma  Plays  Kiki  (Continued  from  Page  13) 


overdue  rent  she  gambles  her  savings  on 
the  purchase  of  a second-hand  wardrobe — 
with  which  to  “break  into  the  chorus.” 

In  the  office  of  theatre  manager  Renal, 
Kiki  succeeds  in  securing  a tryout,  through 
which  she  marches  with  flying  colors  be- 
cause the  song  chances  to  be  one  with  which 
she  is  familiar. 

A comedy  sequence  follows,  in  which 
Kiki  makes  her  debut  and  in  trying  to 
fake  dancing  as  she  had  faked  singing, 
collides  with  Paulette,  the  featured  dancer, 
and  after  a violent  kick  from  that  lady, 
sails  through  the  air  and  lands  sitting  in 
the  bass  drum  of  the  orchestra! 

Baron  Rapp,  the  villain,  enters  the  plot 
here.  In  the  screen  version  he  is  a more 
active  villain  than  on  the  stage,  and  has 
a very  good  part.  Paulette  is  presented  as 
Renal’s  sweetheart,  Kiki  comes  between 
them,  and  thereafter  lively  fighting  that 
arrives  at  the  hair-pulling  stage  ensues. 
The  intervals  between  the  battles  are  filled 
with  intrigue,  in  which  Paulette  excells. 


Kiki’s  well-remembered  cataleptic  fit, 
stimulated  as  a trump  card  in  her  endeavor 
to  keep  Paulette  and  Renal  from  driving 
her  from  the  latter’s  house,  is  an  outstand- 
ing feature  of  the  screen  version.  ’Tis 
here  that  George  K.  Arthur  as  the  servant, 
Adolphe,  is  given  the  opportunity  for  a 
choice  bit  of  action  in  kissing  Kiki.  If 
one  pretends  to  be  in  that  rigid  condition, 
and  helpless,  how  can  one  prevent  one’s 
self  from  being  kissed? 

Renal,  of  course,  rescues  her  at  the  criti- 
cal moment,  and  Kiki  comes  out  of  her 
“fit”  with  a bound,  to  throw  herself  into 
his  arms  and  kiss  him,  much  to  his  delight. 

What  a role!  Will  Miss  Talmadge 
enhance  her  own  and  “Kiki’s”  fame 
through  its  portrayal? 

I am  inclined  to  think  that  she  will,  and 
if  so,  I hope  that  Norma  will  give  us 
other  plays  of  that  order,  and  not  let 
“Kiki”  stand  as  a solitary  example  of  that 
remarkable  combination — a powerful  screen 
individuality  and  true  versatility. 


1926 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


65 


Bride  of  the  Storm 

(Continued  from  Page  19) 

with  interest,  he  tips  his  cap  and  says,  “I 
beg  your  pardon.  I’m  all  wet.”  There 
is  certainly  nothing  “wet,”  to  resort  to  the 
vernacular,  about  Harron’s  performance  in 
this  picture.  It  is  easily  the  best  of  his, 
for  one  so  young,  long  screen  career,  which 
is  saying  quite  a bit. 

Faith  is  at  once  attracted  by  Dick’s  neat 
white  uniform  and  the  cheerful  honesty  of 
his  face  and  he  by  her  strange  position,  her 
poor  clothes,  her  suppressed  loveliness,  and 
her  starved  eagerness  for  companionship, 
understanding  and  love. 

From  this  is  evolved  a delightful  situa- 
tion masterfully  treated,  a clandestine 
courtship  under  the  most  trying  conditions, 
and  without  the  benefit  of  language.  Some 
of  these  scenes  are  positively  unsurpassed 
for  simple  sincerity,  pure  sweetness,  and 
gentle  humor  delicately  and  tastefully  de- 
lineated. 

From  this  point  things  move  swiftly  to 
a climax.  Piet  has  sent  for  Mynheer  Tom, 
a renegade  parson,  justice,  etc.  and  plots 
with  him  to  marry  Faith  himself.  Faith 
conveys  the  news  to  Dick  and  after  his 
commander  has  refused  to  intervene  he  gets 
back  to  the  island  that  night  by  a clever 
ruse  just  in  time  to  interrupt  the  ceremony. 
A terrible  fight  takes  place,  Hans  hacks  the 
supports  from  beneath  the  lighthouse  and 
fires  it.  Dick  and  Faith  escape  in  the 
nick  of  time.  This  last  part  is  particu- 
larly spectacular  and  thrilling.  The  splen- 
did photography  under  difficult  and  adverse 
conditions  and  the  unusual  and  startlingly 
effective  nightmare  sequences  are  a credit 
to  Nick  Musuraca.  Victor  Vance  is  re- 
sponsible for  the  appropriately  atmospheric 
art  titles. 

“Bride  of  the  Storm’’  contains  the  most 
masterful  and  interesting  psychological 
study  of  the  action,  reaction,  and  inter- 
action of  the  minds  of  the  four  sinister 
figures  of  Jacob,  Piet,  Hans,  and  Mynheer 
Tom  and  of  Faith  and  Dick  of  any  pic- 
ture since  D e Mille’s  “Whispering 
Chorus.”  So  artfully  are  the  effects  of  the 
various  minds  upon  one  another  brought 
out,  emphasized,  and  presented  that  the 
interplay  and  conflict  grips  one  more  power- 
fully than  the  most  striking  and  thrilling 
of  action  scenes.  The  multi-colored  threads 
of  the  various  characters  are  woven  into 
the  fabric  of  the  picture  in  a lucid  but 
complicated  and  delicate  design,  logical,  co- 
herent, convincing  which  is  a satisfaction 
not  only  to  the  initiated  creator  of  pictures 
but  to  the  layman  in  search  of  entertain- 
ment. This  is  character  building  of  the 
highest  degree. 

Commodore  Blackton  has  carved  in 
strange  and  exquisite  style  a beautiful 
cameo,  faithful  to  the  immutable  laws  of 
life  and  human  nature,  fashioned  from 
new  and  interesting  materials. 


Permanent 

Waving 

...  by  thes  Weaver -Jackson_;  ex- 
clusive, new  method  of  wrapping, 
effects  a wides  natural  waves. 

. . . We  guarantees  this  wave  to 
remains  in  your  hair  for  six 
months  and  it  often_j  lasts  much 

. o . Do  not  entrust  permanent 
waving  to  other  than_j  experts. 
Our  operators  ares  artists  in  their 
lines  and  you  are  assured  a beau- 
tiful waves,  whole  head . . . $19.30 

. . . For  forty  years,  our  beauty 
salons  haves  served  the  mosis  dis- 
criminating women,  o 4 large 
staff  of  courteous,  experts  attend- 
ants has  made  theWeaver-Jackson 
Co.  well  known  to  womens  who 
dress  fastidiously  in_;  every  detail. 


'eavtr 


r-yads(M 


hAtRf/STORES 


6 21  South  Olive  Street 
538  South  Broadway 
6759  Hollywood  Boulevard 
Ambassador  Hotel  (Casino  Floor ) 


66 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


February 


Lining  up  for  the  land  rush  which  opened  up  the  Indian  Territory  to  settlers. 


Three  Bad  Men  In  The  World  Of  Promise  (Continued  from  Page  38) 


these  picture  necessities,  and  a separate 
crew  of  forty  men  was  used  in  building 
the  tent  city  wherein  the  cast  of  the  pro- 
duction and  Director  John  Ford’s  staff 
were  housed. 

With  the  completion  of  the  sets  and  liv- 
ing quarters,  the  business  manager  of  the 
location  notified  the  home  studio  office  that 
everything  was  in  readiness  for  the  pro- 
ducing unit.  Then  came  the  problem  of 
transporting  the  company  to  the  location. 

Motor  vehicles  were  engaged  by  the 


score  to  move  the  actors  from  Victorville, 
California,  the  last  railway  point,  to  the 
location,  fifty  miles  into  the  Mojave  desert. 
Huge  motor  parlor  cars,  especially  equip- 
ped with  high-powered  engines,  were  in- 
cluded in  the  great  automobile  train.  The 
caravan  of  cars  stretched  out  for  nearly  a 
mile  when  the  last  car  was  loaded  and 
started  on  its  way  into  the  desert. 

On  the  Mojave  desert  location  every 
imaginable  enterprise  existed — beauty  par- 
lors, barber  shops,  candy  stores,  shoe 


stores,  clothing  stores,  ice  cream  parlors, 
doctors’  offices,  dentists’  offices,  a horse- 
shoer’s  establishment,  a garage  and  a sep- 
arate post  office.  One  dozen  deputy  sher- 
iffs from  San  Bernardino  county  were  de- 
tailed to  supervise  the  camp,  and  maintain 
law  and  order.  This  was  a necessary  step 
because  of  the  large  number  of  people 
camped  together. 

Such  are  a few  of  the  problems  which 
enter  into  the  bringing  of  the  old,  rugged 
west  before  the  eyes  of  a modern  public. 


The  Follies  Girl  On  The  Screen  (Continued  from  Page  13) 


ing  your  movements,  of  a score  of  stage 
tricks,  was  of  aid. 

I arrived  in  Hollywood  a little  more 
than  a year  ago.  And  as  this  is  written  I 
have  just  finished  playing  my  first  leading 
part.  I appear  opposite  Buck  Jones  in 
“The  Fighting  Buckaroo,”  for  Fox  Films. 

That  is  what  my  Follies  training  has 
done  for  me. 

It  brought  me  a part,  a small  part  but 
nevertheless  an  opportunity  to  appear  be- 
fore the  camera,  just  four  days  after  I 
arrived.  It  was  my  connection  with  the 
Foil  ies  that  got  me  into  Jack  Warner’s 
office  the  day  after  my  arrival  and  he  gave 


me  work  at  once.  I played  a cloakroom 
girl  in  a picture  in  which  Dorothy  Mack- 
aill  played  the  lead,  “The  Bridge  of 
Sighs.”  Dot  played  her  first  Follies  en- 
gagement in  New  York  in  a company  in 
which  I had  a big  part  and  I played  my 
first  bit  in  pictures  in  a company  in  which 
she  played  the  lead.  Odd,  isn’t  it? 

From  then  on  I was  kept  busy  most  of 
the  time.  I was  under  contract  to  Rudolph 
Valentino  for  three  months,  to  play  oppo- 
site him  in  a picture  which  was  never  made. 
I think  that  the  excitement  of  a big  chance 
like  that  has  gotten  into  my  blood.  Just  a 
few  months  after  my  arrival  here  I was 


scheduled  to  play  opposite  one  of  the  most 
popular  stars  of  today  in  a big  production. 
Then  I didn’t.  I sit  home  now,  between 
pictures,  waiting  for  the  telephone  to  ring 
and  not  knowing  what  to  expect  when  I 
pick  up  the  receiver.  It  may  be  a gossip- 
ing friend,  or  a call  to  world-wide  fame. 
On  the  stage  one  starts  the  season  and 
after  the  first  night  there  is  no  new  thrill, 
nor  chance  of  overwhelming  success.  In 
pictures,  one  never  knows.  Every  few 
weeks  there  is  a new  chance.  A tiny  bit 
may  develop  during  the  making  of  a pic- 
ture to  a part  that  will  bring  fame.  This 
is  the  life.  I’ll  never  go  back  to  New  \ ork. 


The  Jewel  Ballet  from  “The  Midnight  Sun”  (Continued  from  Page  33) 


In  its  final  development  the  action  of 
this  scene  takes  place  in  a grotto  of  jewels, 
about  the  throne  of  the  King  of  Gems. 
Before  him  pass  in  review  the  personifica- 
tion of  precious  stones  and  metals,  only  the 
highlights  of  which  can  be  shown  in  the 
black  and  white  illustrations. 


Miss  O’Neill  is  another  of  the  ever- 
increasing  group  of  stage  artisans  to  turn 
her  attention  exclusively  to  the  screen.  Her 
work  as  designer  of  some  of  the  most  nota- 
ble costuming  effects  of  the  Ziegfeld  Follies 
attracted  her  to  the  attention  of  Metro- 
Goldwyn-Mayer  for  whom  she  came  to 


Hollywood  to  do  costumes  for  “The  Merry 
Widow”  and  “Ben  Hur”  as  well  as  cos- 
tumes for  Norma  Talmadge’s  “Graustark.” 
She  is  now  designing  costumes  for  the  pic- 
turization  of  “The  Prince  of  Pilsen”,  for 
Belasco  Productions. 


1926 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


67 


Capitalizing  Opportunity 

(Continued,  from  Page  23) 

director  over  to  a conviction  that  the  son 
of  an  important  figure  in  the  show  world 
was  sincere  in  his  desire  to  succeed  on  his 
own  merits  was  not  easy,  but  Considine 
convinced  him  by  a very  simple  method — 
demonstration. 

Now  that  he  had  made  the  first  step, 
he  did  not  lose  sight  of  his  ambition  to 
become  Joseph  Schenck’s  secretary.  He 
had  not,  however,  mentioned  the  fact  to 
Mr.  Schenck.  It  was  sheer  coincidence 
that  brought  about  the  culmination  of  this 
plan,  and  much  sooner  than  he  had  antici- 
pated. A secretary  who  had  been  with 
the  producer  for  twelve  years  suddenly  left 
his  employ,  and  Considine’s  personality 
having  impressed  Mr.  Schenck,  the  latter’s 
first  thought  was  to  transfer  the  young 
man  into  this  position  if  he  were  willing; 
at  least  until  someone  else  was  available. 

At  last — the  opportunity  to  demonstrate 
the  art  he  had  learned  by  observing  the 
prince  of  secretaries!  His  expectations  and 
ambitions  were  realized.  Within  a short 
time  he  had  made  himself  indispensable. 

“Whatever  else  I may,  or  may  not,  be 
able  to  lay  claim  to,”  Mr.  Considine  de- 
clares, “I  did  make  good  as  a secretary.” 

He  put  all  the  initiative  he  possessed  into 
the  exacting  task.  Being  secretary  to  such 
an  active  and  important  person  as  Mr. 
Schenck  was  a test  indeed ; the  many  and 
diversified  interests  of  the  producer  called 
into  play  all  the  executive  qualities  latent 
in  young  Considine — all  the  diplomacy,  the 
decision,  the  grasp  of  detail  he  could  bring 
to  bear. 

An  opportunity  to  prove  his  executive 
ability  and  generalship  of  detail  to  Mr. 
Schenck  yet  more  convincingly,  came  when 
the  latter  was  planning  a trip  to  Europe. 
It  had  not  been  his  intention  to  take  Con- 
sidine along,  but  he  chanced  to  remember 
that  he  spoke  French  and  had  lived  in  Eu- 
rope. On  being  offered  the  chance  of  ac- 
companying his  employer,  the  young  pri- 
vate secretary  accepted  eagerly.  Europe 
meant  little  to  him  after  several  trips  and 
periods  of  residence  there,  but  the  chance 
of  greater  intimacy  with  Schenck,  and  a 
greater  opportunity  to  serve  him,  was  more 
than  attractive. 

He  managed  the  trip  so  well  that  very 
shortly  after  their  return  he  became  man- 
ager of  the  Norma  Talmadge  company. 

Two  and  a half  years  ago  he  was  made 
general  manager  of  the  Schenck  Produc- 
tions, a position  he  still  holds.  In  addition, 
he  is  now  an  associate  producer.  He  made 
“Wild  Justice,”  with  Peter  the  Great,  the 
police  dog  star,  in  the  central  role;  another 
of  his  productions  is  “The  Eagle,”  star- 
ring Rudolph  Valentino.  Both  are  United 
Artists  releases. 

In  1921  John  W.  Considine,  Jr.,  a 


young  man  not  only  anxious  but  deter- 
mined to  “get  along,”  took  stock  of  his 
assets  and  made  his  plans.  Four  years  later 
we  find  him  in  one  of  the  most  active  and 
responsible  executive  positions  in  the  motion 
picture  industry. 

He  says  that  as  he  reviews  his  progress 
during  those  four  years,  he  realizes  that 
“the  breaks  were  all  for  me!”  That,  he 
modestly  explains,  accounts  for  the  speed 
of  his  climb. 

In  our  opinion  Considine  was  not  ex- 
traordinarily lucky.  “Breaks?”  Of  course. 
Everyone  has  them,  for  and  against  indi- 
vidual progress.  But  John  Considine  was 
on  his  toes  to  take  advantage  of  the  good 
breaks,  to  halt  the  bad  ones  before  they 
could  do  any  harm.  He  knew  what  he 
wanted,  why,  and  how  to  go  about  getting 
it.  Then  he  went  after  it. 

That’s  how  those  things  are  done. 


Memories  of  Yesteryear 

(Continued  from  Page  52) 

chatty  talk,  “The  Bride  of  the  Storm” 
came  on  the  screen,  it  was  with  a feeling 
of  genuine  appreciation  of  the  dignity  and 
beauty  of  the  eighth  art  that  we  saw  un- 
fold before  us  James  Francis  Dwyer’s 
story,  “Maryland,  My  Maryland,”  from 
which  the  picture  was  adapted. 


CHAPMAN’S 

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and  Ices 

<no 

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5604  Hollywood  Boulevard 
[637  La  Brea  Avenue 
1639  Highland  Avenue 
628  S.  Western  Avenue 
244  N.  Larchmont  Avenue 

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Special  Attention  Given 

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68 


THE  MOTION  PICTURE  DIRECTOR 


F ebruary 


T 

I T ISN’T  POSSIBLE 

% % ^ 

WITH  OUR  PRESENT  EQUIP- 
MENT 

h=  * * 

TO  DO  ALL  THE  LAUNDRY 

* * * 

IN  HOLLYWOOD 

* * * 

SO  WE’RE  SATISFIED 

* * * 

FOR  THE  PRESENT 

* * * 

TO  SPECIALIZE 

He  * * 

ON  THE  SHARE  WE  GET 

* * * 

BUT  WE  WISH  TO  REMIND 
YOU 

H=  * * 

THAT  IT’S  ALWAYS  POSSIBLE 

H=  H=  H= 

TO  DO  A LITTLE  BIT  MORE 

H=  H=  He 

AND  IN  THE  COURSE 

H:  H=  He 

OF  A NATURAL  GROWTH 

H=  * * 

WE’LL  SPECIALIZE 

H=  H=  H= 

ON  THE  “LITTLE  BIT  MORE” 

* He  H= 

FOR  AFTER  ALL 

H=  * * 

WE’RE  SPECIALISTS  ANY- 
WAY— 

He  H=  He 

THAT’S  PROGRESS! 


COMMUNITY 

LAUNDRY 


Open  Door 

(Continued  from  Page  2) 

presence,  but  they  entertained  us  with  stor- 
ies of  the  fun  and  sorrows  of  work  in  a 
moving  picture  company.  All  of  us  from 
the  Captain  down  had  the  time  of  our 
lives  and  are  looking  forward  to  a return 
visit. 

L.  J.  Kehoe, 

Chief  Yeoman,  U.S.N. 


Editor, 

The  Motion  Picture  Director: 

Carl  van  Vechten’s  “The  Tattooed 
Countess”  has  just  arrived  in  my  town  as 
“A  Woman  of  the  World”  with  Pola 
Negri  in  the  title  role.  Pola  is  good,  and 
the  picture,  as  a picture,  is  such  a great  im- 
provement over  her  “Flower  of  the  Night” 
that  the  contrast  makes  it  a masterpiece. 
Let  it  be  understood,  then,  that  I have  no 
quarrel  with  the  photoplay  itself;  it  is 
good  workmanship  throughout,  and  pre- 
sents the  star  as  only  two  of  her  pictures, 
“Passion”  and  “Forbidden  Paradise,”  have 
done. 

My  quarrel  is  with  the  linking  of  the 
name  of  a book  by  a well-known  author 
with  a story  that  bears  practically  no  re- 
lationship to  it.  I will  not  say  that  the 
story  which  appeared  was  not  as  good,  for 
picture  use,  as  Van  Vechten’s  unpuctuated 
novel.  Perhaps  it  was  better.  But  why 
credit  the  author?  Why  tire  out  the  spec- 
tator who  comes  to  the  show  for  enter- 
tainment, with  the  task  of  matching  a story 
he  has  read  with  the  story  that  unfolds  on 
the  screen?  He  looks  in  vain  for  certain 
fiction  characters,  and  discovers  others 
totally  new  to  him ; in  the  few  familiar 
ones  he  sees,  he  meets  new  personalities 
who  confuse  him  with  traits  and  story  func- 
tions utterly  foreign  to  his  memory  of 
them  a la  Van  Vechten. 

A director  I ensnared  with  my  tale  of 
woe  tells  me  that  the  censors  are  respon- 
sible. If  so,  a bas  le  censors!  And  if 
they  aren’t  to  be  a bas-ed,  by  any  possible 
means,  let’s  have  stories  that  do  not  have 
to  be  censored,  or  stories  built  from  the 
ground  up  and  given  to  the  public  sight- 
unseen.  Not  by  Mr.  Hergesheimer,  who 
is  alleged  to  have  perpetrated  “Flower  of 
the  Night,”  but  by  the  capable  man, 
woman  or  collaborators  who  authored  the 
film  “A  Woman  of  the  World,” — and  let 
them  be  unhampered  by  the  necessity  of 
preserving  in  part  a few  characters  or  situa- 
tions created  by  a novelist. 

Having  no  inclination  to  write  scenarios, 
I do  not  advocate  my  favorite  star  appear- 
ing in  a masterpiece  of  mine.  Box  office 
investment  of  time  and  money  alone  im- 
pells  me  respectfully  to  suggest  stories  by 
studio  staff  authors  — good  studio  staff 
authors.  If  censors  or  the  limitations  of 
the  screen  make  a fairly  true  reproduction 
of  a novel  or  play  impossible,  let  the  studio 
men  create  our  entertainment.  Cordially, 

M.E.R. 


ANNOUNCEMENT 

“Ollie” 

SELLERS 

Formerly 
Associated  with 

Universal  Film  Corporation 

and 

Triangle  Film  Corporation 

Has  Opened 
an  Exclusive 

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Between  Curzon  and  Stanley 

Featuring 

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and 

Upholstered 

Furniture 

Tailored  in  Their 
Own  Shops 


YOU  ARE  CORDIALLY 
INVITED  TO  CALL 


Sellers’ 

Furniture  Studio 

7617-19-21-23  Sunset  Bind. 

GLadstone  4795 


This  booklet  yours  for  the  a skin g- 


“Eastman  Panchromatic 
Negative  Film  for 
Motion  Pictures” 


An  interesting,  practical  booklet  on  the 
properties  and  uses  of  Eastman  Panchromatic 
Film.  Contains  the  information  directors  and 
cinematographers  have  been  looking  for. 

Write  for  a copy. 


SMITH-BARNES  CORPORATION 
MORE  THAN  PRINTERS 


Motion  Picture  Film  Department 

EASTMAN  KODAK  COMPANY 

ROCHESTER,  NEW  YORK 


Scanned  from  the  collection  of 

Marc  Wanamaker  / Bison  Archives 


Coordinated  by  the 
Media  History  Digital  Library 
www.  mediahistoryproj  ect.org 


Funded  by  a donation  from 
University  of  South  Carolina  Libraries  and 
College  of  Arts  and  Sciences